In This Economy? (part 1)
in this economy? (part 1)
summary: you needed money. he needed a fake girlfriend. easy deal, right? except he’s your best friend’s boss. and you’re one minor inconvenience away from setting something on fire. he’s cold, rich, emotionally unavailable. you’re loud, broke, and very good at pretending this isn’t slowly turning real.
genre: fluff | fake dating
characters: ceo!heeseung x f! broke ass reader
words: 12k?
warnings: none in this part
a/n: damn didnt know tumblr had a word limit so heres a 2 parter i didnt realise would be a 2 parter
part 2
You were in your final year of college, living what could only be described as the off-brand version of Hannah Montana. Two jobs, endless assignments, zero glam. You had the double life down—student by day, overworked part-timer by night—except instead of rocking out on stage, you were rocking a polyester apron and a mild caffeine addiction.
Despite working like a hamster on an espresso wheel, your bank account stayed somewhere between “embarrassing” and “haunted.” Thanks, student loans. They followed you like an ex who couldn’t take a hint—except this one charged interest and occasionally sent you emails that made your eye twitch.
Still, you powered through. Broke, yes. Sleep-deprived, absolutely. But functioning? Debatable.
Fortunately, your best friend Jake—resident golden boy, and somehow always suspiciously well-rested—had just landed a Big Boy Job. He was now the personal assistant to the Lee Heeseung. Which sounded impressive… you guessed. You wished someone had warned you what a big deal this guy was, but no one did. You didn’t know. You really didn’t.
You were three bites deep into your third roll of bread, barely chewing anymore. It wasn’t about manners—it was about survival. Tuition was due, your rent deadline loomed like a jump scare, and your bank account balance looked like a bad joke.
Jake sat across from you at the glossy conference room table, watching you with an expression that landed somewhere between mild horror and disbelief.
“Slow down,” he said, nudging the breadbasket just out of your reach. “The bread’s not running anywhere.”
You glared at him, a crust still stuck to your bottom lip. “Easy for you to say. You’re not living on instant noodles and silent sobbing.”
He wrinkled his nose. “You literally had coffee and a spoonful of peanut butter for breakfast.”
“Because I couldn't afford a second spoonful.”
Flipping through your notes with one hand and clutching a half-eaten roll with the other, you tried to cram half a semester’s worth of marketing strategy into your already overloaded brain. You were multitasking. Efficient. A legend, if legends were broke and hungry.
Jake looked personally offended. “This is a workplace, you know. There are millionaires walking around here. You’re dropping crumbs on a seven-thousand-dollar chair.”
You paused mid-bite. “Seven what now?”
He tossed you a napkin with the kind of disappointment only a best friend could perfect. “Just—try not to look like a starving Dickens orphan if my boss walks in.”
You frowned. “Your boss?”
And that’s when the air changed—like a cold draft had slinked in through invisible cracks. Jake straightened. The playful glint in his eyes flickered out.
Speak of the devil in designer slacks.
The door creaked open, and in walked the heir to Luxen Technologies: Lee Heeseung.
Cold. Polished. Annoyingly symmetrical.
You promptly choked on your bread.
"That's your... boss?" you asked, staring as the man strolled in like he was walking on a Calvin Klein runway in slow motion, his coat flaring just slightly, hair annoyingly perfect.
Sure, he was good-looking. Objectively. Like, if you had a dollar for every sharp angle on his face, you could maybe afford two spoonfuls of peanut butter.
But you didn’t have time for men. You barely had time for yourself.
Here you were, fully dependent on your best friend and roommate’s snack stash and corporate pantry privileges, inhaling free carbs like your life depended on it—which, honestly, it kind of did. This had become your daily routine: roll out of bed, survive uni, raid Jake’s office for bread and maybe some emotional support tea every morning.
Jake sighed, already bracing for impact like someone who'd lived through this exact scenario too many times. “Look, you have to leave before he comes over and kicks you out.”
You snorted, entirely unbothered, and waved him off like he was being dramatic—which, to be fair, he usually was. Reaching for another roll from the meticulously arranged snack spread (which you were absolutely not supposed to touch), you said breezily, “He wouldn’t do that. Right?”
Jake didn't answer immediately. Instead, he gave you the kind of look reserved for people about to learn something the hard way. “He’s kicked people out for less,” he muttered, casting a wary glance at the growing constellation of crumbs you were generously distributing across the sleek, glass conference table—like you were decorating it for a carb-themed holiday.
Your chewing slowed. “Oh,” you said, mid-bite, hand frozen halfway to your mouth.
Silence.
The kind of silence that prickled.
Something shifted in the air, and you felt it—like animals sensing a predator approaching. You turned your head slowly.
And there he was.
Lee Heeseung. In the flesh. A few steps away and looking like he’d just walked into a crime scene. He was tall, sharp, and immaculately put-together, holding a tablet in one hand like it offended him. His eyes scanned the table, then landed on you—the uninvited guest currently mid-chew, hoarding bread rolls like it was your last meal.
If disapproval had a face, his was it.
Your brain, bless its useless soul, screamed: Run.
Your stomach had other plans: Finish the bread first.
And your hands? They casually reached for two more rolls while maintaining steady eye contact with the most terrifyingly attractive man you’d ever seen.
Honestly, if you were going to get kicked out, you might as well be full.
You glanced at Jake. With as much dignity as one could muster while chewing, you gave a dramatic bow, wiping a suspicious smear of butter off your cheek with the back of your sleeve. “Good day, Mr. Sim. I shall see you again tomorrow. Absolutely lovely businessy chat. So productive. Okay. Bye now.”
Jake snorted. Loudly. But you ignored him, choosing instead to hoist your laptop bag like a makeshift shield, holding it in front of your face in an attempt to avoid the burning scrutiny of one Lee Heeseung. Eye contact was the enemy. Recognition was a death sentence. And above all else: pantry access must be preserved.
If he ever put two and two together—that the very person chewing her way through his conference table like a feral carb-goblin was you—you were done for.
Goodbye, free bread. Goodbye, Jake’s fancy office snacks. Goodbye, dignity… not that there was much left to begin with.
You began edging toward the door, sidestepping like a raccoon caught red-pawed in the middle of a kitchen raid, trying not to look suspicious. Which only made you look so much more suspicious. And to make matters worse, the more you tried to vanish, the longer Heeseung stared.
His eyes followed you with a slow, assessing calm—like a predator trying to decide whether the strange creature in his territory was worth the energy to chase. He didn’t say a word. Just watched. Silently. Intensely. Unreadable.
Probably wondering who let the help in.
“Smooth,” Jake muttered behind his hand, clearly enjoying every second of your descent into awkwardness.
“Shut up,” you hissed, tripping slightly over your own bag strap on your way out, a quiet wheeze of panic slipping from your lips.
You didn’t dare look back until the elevator doors had closed behind you, safely sealing you in a metal box where embarrassment couldn’t reach you. Heart pounding. Mouth dry. Still tasting sourdough.
So that was him, you thought. Jake's boss.
And if he ever figured out who you were? You were screwed.
Meanwhile, back in the war zone formerly known as the conference room, Jake turned back around slowly to face his boss.
Heeseung didn’t look up. He was scrolling through his phone like none of that had just happened. “What time’s my meeting again?” he asked casually, thumb gliding across the screen.
“Three,” Jake replied quickly, slipping back into assistant mode with the smoothness of someone who really needed to keep his job. “Then another one at five with the UX development team. They’re presenting the wearable AI prototype.”
Heeseung gave a brief nod, still scrolling.
There was a beat of silence. Jake almost allowed himself to exhale.
And then—“Who was the girl?”
Jake blinked. “Girl?”
Now Heeseung did look up. One perfectly shaped eyebrow lifted just a fraction. “The one eating the bread like it owed her money.”
Jake choked. “She's just...she's my friend.”
Heeseung narrowed his eyes, the phrase clearly not satisfying. “Your friend. In my conference room. During working hours. Helping herself to my carbs.”
“To be fair,” Jake offered, voice cracking like a freshman in choir, “they’re technically Luxen’s carbs. Also, you don’t even eat the bread—”
“She wiped her mouth with her sleeve,” Heeseung said, looking deeply betrayed. “Do people do that?”
Jake had no idea if he was supposed to laugh, apologize, or call security on your behalf.
“She’s harmless,” he said quickly. “You won’t even see her again. I think."
Heeseung hummed, a noncommittal sound that somehow said everything. His gaze drifted back to his phone.
But Jake caught it.
A flicker at the corner of Heeseung’s mouth—so quick it almost didn’t happen.
Not irritation. Not disapproval.
Curiosity.
Almost.
—
Heeseung sighed.
It wasn’t that he hated his life. Far from it, actually.
He liked working. Loved it, even. There was something deeply satisfying about losing himself in spreadsheets, contracts, and a calendar so tightly packed it could give a scheduler heartburn. He was good at it—no, great at it. The kind of great that turned heads in boardrooms. The kind of great that earned nods of respect from executives twice his age. Even his notoriously competitive older brother and stone-faced father begrudgingly acknowledged his brilliance when it came to the company.
They weren’t jealous of his success—not exactly. Just… quietly resentful that their grandfather, the patriarch of the empire, seemed to have written Lee Heeseung in bold letters at the top of every metaphorical will, wish list, and family legacy blueprint. Heeseung was the golden boy. The prodigy. The one who could do no wrong.
Well—except in matters of the heart.
His grandfather, a man of steel nerves and silk pocket squares, had one tragic flaw: he was a hopeless romantic. The handwritten-letters, crying-during-Hallmark-movies, “Love conquers all” kind. Back in his youth, he had famously eloped with Heeseung’s grandmother after her parents forbade the match. It was the tale he recited at every family dinner like a dramatic bedtime story, wine glass in hand, pausing for emphasis with misty eyes and unnecessary violin music playing in everyone’s heads.
Now, he’d made it his personal mission to marry off every last descendant like he was casting a period drama.
And naturally, he took particular offense to Heeseung—the youngest, most accomplished, and most emotionally unavailable—refusing to so much as glance at romance. Not a flicker. Not a whisper. Not even the vague interest of someone who knew love existed in the same universe.
So imagine Heeseung’s horror when, despite all logic, he found himself distracted. Haunted, even. By the mental image of some girl with a mouthful of carbs, an unapologetic sleeve-wipe, and crumbs on her cheek like a personal brand.
Utterly ridiculous.
Infuriating, even.
There were precisely three things Lee Heeseung could not abide during work hours:
Unexpected visitors.
Long-winded conversations.
Family.
So, naturally, all three arrived in one dramatic flourish when the office doors slammed open with the subtlety of a wrecking ball wearing designer shoes.
“Seung!”
Heeseung didn’t glance up. He didn’t need to. That voice had the energy of a Broadway debut and the volume to match.
“Why is he here?” Heeseung asked flatly.
Jake froze mid-sip of his iced Americano, nearly choking on the absurdity of being blamed for something he had very clearly tried to prevent. “I told him not to—he didn’t even call—”
Heeseung finally looked up, just in time to watch the hurricane make landfall.
Grandpa Lee swept into the room like he still ran the place, all charisma and cologne, his cane purely decorative and his expression full of self-satisfaction. Former CEO. Founder of Luxen Technologies. Current full-time menace to his grandson’s blood pressure.
“Grandpa,” Heeseung said through clenched teeth, voice just shy of a groan. “You can’t keep barging in here every time you have a thought.”
“Of course I can,” the old man said cheerfully, already heading for the plush chair across from Heeseung’s desk. “It’s my building. My company. My bloodline. And also, you left Sunday dinner early, again, so I brought the discussion to you.”
Jake slowly sank into his seat, doing a decent impression of a man attempting to fuse with office furniture. He opened his laptop, not to work, but to pretend like he was somewhere—anywhere—else.
Across the room, Heeseung dragged a hand down his face, the weariness in his expression not from deadlines or meetings but from the familial storm that had just rolled in, all bluster and dramatic flair.
It wasn’t that Heeseung didn’t love his grandfather. He did. Deeply. He’d grown up listening to Grandpa Lee’s stories—some romantic, some insane, all borderline exaggerated. He loved the old man’s fire, his flair for theatrics, his unwavering belief in love.
But the thing was, Heeseung didn’t believe in love. At least not for himself.
Love happened, sure. It was cute in theory. Like puppies. Or those couples who held hands in grocery store aisles. But for Heeseung? The concept belonged in other people’s lives. He had things to build. A company to run. An empire to uphold. There wasn’t room in his carefully scheduled, emotionally vacuum-sealed world for candlelit dinners and grand declarations.
“Seung,” Grandpa Lee began, already digging into the contacts on his ancient phone like he was summoning a spell. “One of the kids—from—uh—SunTech, I think. His granddaughter—”
“Not interested,” Heeseung groaned, dragging his chair out and dropping into it like a man preparing for battle. He turned on his computer and focused all his energy on his Google Calendar, as if the overlapping blocks of color could protect him from whatever matchmaking scheme was brewing.
“She’s your age,” Grandpa insisted, swiping through what looked like a very poorly lit photo. “Exceptionally bright. Lovely eyes. Probably fertile—”
“I don’t care,” Heeseung said, without even blinking.
Grandpa Lee scoffed so hard, Jake briefly checked the air conditioning to make sure it wasn’t just the vents.
“Jake, my boy,” the old man thundered, turning to Jake with the dramatic flourish of a stage actor mid-soliloquy, “you best prepare an umbrella for tonight. The ancestors are going to cry from how rude my grandson is.”
Jake coughed behind his hand, clearly losing the battle not to laugh.
“Rude?” Heeseung repeated, eyes still fixed on his screen. “Didn’t you run away from your family to marry Grandma?”
“She was the love of my life,” Grandpa snapped, puffing out his chest like he was about to monologue about moonlight and destiny. Again.
“And didn’t you yell something along the lines of—what was it?” Heeseung pretended to think for a beat, then smirked. “Oh right. ‘Kiss my ass.’”
Grandpa Lee’s face wrinkled into an affronted frown. “You little—!”
He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor, cane in one hand like he was about to duel.
Jake peeked up from behind his laptop, eyes wide, mildly alarmed.
Heeseung leaned back in his chair, looking irritatingly calm. “Just saying, if rebellion for love was good enough for you, maybe rebellion against love is good enough for me.”
“You’re twisting my legacy, you arrogant little–” Grandpa snapped.
Heeseung let out a long-suffering sigh. “I love you, Grandpa,” he said, not without sincerity, “I really do. But I don’t think—”
Whack.
The cane came down with expert precision, connecting with the top of Heeseung’s head before he could finish the sentence.
“Ow—! What the hell?! Grandpa!” Heeseung hissed in pain, one hand flying up to his hair as he recoiled in disbelief.
“That,” Grandpa Lee said, lowering his cane with the pride of a seasoned warrior, “was for being stupid. I may be old, but I’m not senile.”
Jake, valiantly trying to remain neutral, let out a sound that could only be described as a muffled snort, quickly masked behind his coffee cup. He was, unfortunately, enjoying this far more than his employee handbook allowed.
“You assaulted me,” Heeseung muttered, rubbing his scalp and glaring at the very man who used to tuck him in with bedtime stories about elopements and destiny.
“That wasn’t assault,” Grandpa countered, straightening his lapels. “That was discipline. You’re welcome.”
“You could’ve said something.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Jake quietly slid a packet of ice from the mini fridge toward Heeseung’s desk like a peace offering. Heeseung took it with a scowl, pressing it to his head as Grandpa settled back into the chair he had so dramatically abandoned.
“I’m not saying fall in love today,” Grandpa continued, voice a touch gentler now. “But open your eyes. One day, someone is going to walk into your life—and she won’t give a damn about your meetings or your title or your five-year plan. She’ll probably be a disaster. A whirlwind. And exactly what you need.”
Heeseung stared at him, unimpressed. “You’ve been watching those stupid dramas again, haven’t you?”
“I like them,” Grandpa sniffed, unbothered. “They speak to the soul. And unlike you, they have range. Emotional range."
Jake lost the battle with his laughter, letting it escape in a quiet wheeze.
Heeseung gave him a sharp look. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Not at all,” Jake said, already typing something into his notes app with far too much amusement. “Should I call Legal and ask about emotional damages from relatives?”
“Call a therapist while you’re at it,” Heeseung muttered.
Grandpa Lee stood again, “I’m not cancelling the date with SunTech’s granddaughter,” he announced, as if this declaration were final, written in stone, sealed by the ancestors themselves.
Heeseung groaned, already feeling the migraine bloom behind his eyes. “Grandpa. Cancel it. I’m not sitting around awkwardly sipping tea with some random girl—”
“Not random. SunTech’s granddaughter,” Grandpa corrected, his tone haughty, as though the corporate pedigree alone should be enough to send Heeseung into a frenzy of romantic interest.
“You don’t even know her name.”
“It’s something to do with the sun,” Grandpa said, waving a dismissive hand. “Sunny? Sunrise? Sunhwa? Something celestial. The details aren’t important.”
“Oh, I think they are,” Heeseung deadpanned.
“Seung.” His grandfather’s voice softened with a rare touch of sincerity. “Please. Just one date. One.”
Heeseung hesitated. Not because he was considering it, but because he was trying—desperately—to find a way out that didn’t involve disappointing the man who once taught him how to drive and also how to spot a bad merger.
“I can’t,” he said finally.
“And why not?”
Heeseung opened his mouth, then closed it. Thought. Thought harder. Came up with absolutely nothing. His brain was a clean whiteboard where excuses usually lived, but today, apparently, they’d taken the morning off.
He glanced at Jake. Still in his chair. Still sipping his iced Americano. Still laughing silently behind his laptop like this was a free improv show with catered snacks.
“Because…?” Grandpa prompted, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“Jake?” Heeseung said, turning toward his assistant like a man clinging to the edge of a lifeboat.
Jake blinked. The sip of coffee in his mouth stalled somewhere in his throat.
Oh, no. Oh, no no no.
Heeseung’s eyes screamed Help me. Jake’s brain screamed Why do I work here. But somewhere between panic and pity, an idea emerged—terrible, reckless, and unquestionably effective.
Jake cleared his throat. “Because,” he said slowly, “Mr. Lee already… has a girlfriend.”
The room went still.
Utterly, impossibly still.
Heeseung blinked once. “I what.”
Grandpa Lee's gaze sharpened like a hawk spotting prey. “You what?”
Jake could feel the weight of both their stares, but he pressed on, fully embracing the reckless commitment of a man now in far too deep.
“Yes,” he nodded, his voice unnaturally bright. “He has a girlfriend. Very real. Extremely non-fictional. You just haven’t met her yet.”
Heeseung turned to him slowly, his face a portrait of stunned betrayal. “Jake.”
Jake gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Go with it.”
Grandpa folded his arms, skeptical. “And why haven’t I met this girlfriend?”
Jake hesitated for only half a second—just long enough for his brain to spin a web of half-truths and whole lies. “Well, it’s still new. They only started seeing each other last month. And Heeseung’s, you know…” He looked at his boss meaningfully. “Shy.”
Heeseung let out a sound that could only be described as internal screaming.
“Shy?” Grandpa repeated, eyebrows raised like the concept was foreign.
Jake nodded solemnly. “Very reserved when it comes to feelings. Doesn’t like to share until he’s sure. That’s why he hasn’t said anything. It’s still early, and he’s trying not to mess it up.”
For a moment, Grandpa said nothing.
Just stood there, his sharp eyes narrowing, gears visibly turning behind them like he was piecing together a very juicy puzzle.
Then—“It’s that… Bread Girl, isn’t it?”
Heeseung blinked. “Bread girl?”
The name rang a bell. Faintly. Something Grandpa had muttered earlier about a chaotic woman who’d been assaulting his company’s carb inventory with reckless abandon. Right. Jake’s friend. The one who'd been in his conference room. The one who chewed like it was a competitive sport and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.
Jake’s eyes widened in alarm. “You… you saw her?”
“She knocked into me on her way out of the conference room just now,” Grandpa said, nostrils flaring like he was reliving the moment. “Nearly knocked my cane out of my hand. I was ready to launch into a full lecture on manners and public decency—until I saw the amount of bread she had crammed in her arms.”
He smiled, clearly delighted. “That’s when I knew. She wasn’t being rude. She was just in love. Hungry and in love. My favorite combination.” And without further warning, he pulled Heeseung into a firm, proud hug. “Keeping my granddaughter-in-law well-fed. That’s my boy.”
Heeseung stood there like a mannequin in a hostage scenario, arms limp at his sides, staring over Grandpa’s shoulder with wide, blinking disbelief. His gaze locked on Jake, who looked dangerously close to either exploding with laughter or faking his own death.
Was he going to throw his best friend under the bus?
Apparently, yes.
“Yep,” Jake said with a helpless shrug. “That’s her.”
Heeseung opened his mouth to protest—but then paused. The wheels in his brain, previously stuck in panic mode, began to turn. Slowly, reluctantly, but undeniably. There was an idea forming. A stupid, dangerous, possibly reputation-ruining idea.
But it might just work.
“She’s… shy,” Jake added, already spinning the web a little further, clearly hoping Heeseung would not kill him in his sleep later. “Which is why she hasn’t been introduced yet. It’s still… new.”
Grandpa pulled back just enough to give Heeseung a squint of suspicion. “New?”
Heeseung hesitated.
And then, with the kind of sigh one gives right before jumping off a metaphorical cliff, he nodded. “Yeah. We, uh… only started seeing each other last month.”
“She’s still adjusting,” Heeseung continued, falling into the role with the grim acceptance of a man who’d rather fake a relationship than go on another one of Grandpa’s curated matchmaking setups. “Not really used to… all this.”
“All this?” Grandpa gestured around the office.
“The… CEO thing,” Heeseung said, waving vaguely. “The attention. The—uh—pressure. You know how it is.”
Grandpa narrowed his eyes further, scrutinizing his grandson with the intensity of a man deciding whether to believe a magician or demand to see what’s up his sleeve.
Finally, after a beat of silence: “So you’re saying the girl who wiped her face with her sleeve in your conference room... is your girlfriend.”
Heeseung nodded once. “Yes?"
Grandpa considered. Then smiled. “Well, damn. That explains the crumbs.”
Heeseung exhaled slowly, like he’d just avoided death by PowerPoint. “So you’ll cancel the SunTech date now?”
Grandpa chuckled, already heading toward the door. “Of course, of course. I would never interfere in true love. But now that I know she’s real…” He paused dramatically at the door. “I expect to meet her properly next week. Bring her to dinner. No excuses. And tell her to bring an appetite. There will be baguettes.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
Silence.
Then Jake leaned forward, voice dry and just the right amount of judgmental. “You do realize what you just did, right?”
Heeseung leaned back in his chair, groaning as he pinched the bridge of his nose like he could physically squeeze the consequences out of existence. “Jake… I’m gonna need your friend’s phone number.”
Jake stared at him. Blinking. Processing.
“She’s going to kill me,” he muttered.
—-
You were halfway up the street, your backpack tugging at your shoulder and your feet dragging after a long day, when someone came jogging toward you from the bus stop.
“Hey! Hey hey—!” Jake’s voice rang out, breathless but chipper, his hand waving like he was flagging down a taxi.
You squinted at him. “Why are you running like I owe you money?”
He didn’t bother answering. Just grinned—way too wide, way too bright—and looped his arm through yours, tugging you along.
“I brought you dinner,” he announced, tone suspiciously light.
You stopped walking, brows pinched. “What?”
Jake held up a plastic bag in front of your face with exaggerated pride. The aroma hit you first, warm and familiar. You peeked inside.
Your eyes widened. “Is this—Sue’s? As in the good roast chicken?”
“With the chili oil packets,” Jake said smugly, clearly pleased with himself.
“You went all the way across town?” you asked, mouth falling open as you cradled the bag like it was gold.
He nodded, almost bouncing. “And there’s more.”
You narrowed your eyes. “More?”
“I ordered your bubble tea too. It should be here any minute.”
You gasped, hand flying to your chest. “Taro oat milk with brown sugar pearls?”
Jake mimicked a solemn oath, placing a hand over his heart. “Taro oat milk. Brown sugar pearls. No ice. Less sweet. Just how you like it.”
Your face lit up immediately. “You’re my favorite person. EVER!”
“I know,” he said, leaning into you with an overly sweet smile. “Just remember...that I love you. I love you. Deeply. Eternally. Unconditionally.”
You snorted, nudging him away with your elbow. “Okay, drama queen.”
But then he paused. His voice dipped just slightly, soft but steady. “I’m serious. I love you.”
You froze for a second.
Your smile faltered.
There was something off in his tone—too sincere, too heavy for a roast chicken and bubble tea run. You turned to look at him properly.
“Jake,” you said carefully.
He straightened, schooling his face into something resembling innocence. “Yeah?”
Your eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”
Jake blinked, feigning confusion. “What do you mean?”
“You only say ‘I love you’ like that when something’s wrong. It’s your guilty voice. So what is it? Did you clog the sink again? Spill something on the couch? Sign me up for something I didn’t agree to?”
His laugh came out high-pitched and thin. “You’re being dramatic.”
“Jake.”
“It’s not bad,” he said quickly, holding up both hands.
“Oh my God,” you groaned. “What did you do?”
“It’s not illegal,” he added, stepping back slightly as you took a slow, threatening step forward.
“Jake.”
He held out the roast chicken bag like a shield. “Eat first. Yell later.”
You snatched the bag but kept your gaze locked on him, lips pressed into a flat line. “Talk.”
He scratched the back of his neck, clearly stalling, eyes darting around like he was hoping a car would hit him and end the conversation.
—
The door to your shared apartment swung open with a slam, and you stormed in like a woman possessed.
Jake had barely made it through the front door before you launched yourself at him like a sleep-deprived hurricane.
“YOU—YOU ABSOLUTE MENACE—”
“Wait—WAIT—THE CHICKEN—!” he squeaked, still trying to kick his shoes off as you flailed your arms with righteous fury.
You were half-thrashing, half-swatting at him with the plastic bag still clutched in your hand, the scent of roasted garlic and chili oil trailing behind every slap. Jake yelped, stumbling backward as he grabbed the nearest couch cushion to shield himself.
“IT’S FIVE HUNDRED PER DATE!” he shrieked. “WHY ARE YOU YELLING—”
“I’M YELLING BECAUSE YOU SOLD ME LIKE I'M SOMETHING YOU CAN BUY FROM THE STORE!” you cried, swinging the chicken like it owed you rent.
Right then, Jungwon’s bedroom door flew open with a bang. His hair was sticking up in all directions, eyes wide with panic, an oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder like it had lost the will to live.
“WHAT’S GOING ON?” he demanded, voice still hoarse with sleep. “Is someone dying?!”
“HES A FUCKING IDIOT, THAT’S WHAT’S GOING ON!” you shouted, jabbing a finger at Jake like a prosecutor presenting Exhibit A.
From behind the couch cushion, Jake winced. “Okay, I understand that you're mad."
Jungwon blinked, processing. “Dude, what the hell did you do?"
"HE WANTS ME TO FAKE DATE HIS BOSS!” you screamed again, nearly vibrating with rage.
Jake raised a finger. “For money,” he added helpfully, as if that made the entire situation perfectly reasonable.
Jungwon stood there for a beat, then tilted his head. “...Is the boss hot?”
The entire room fell into silence.
You turned to Jake slowly, brows lifting. “Wait. Is the boss hot?”
Jake’s grin spread, lazy and far too pleased with himself. “You tell me. You met him.”
Your brain stuttered. Froze. Replayed the memory of a tall man in a dark suit, judging you with cold eyes while you stuffed your face with carbs like a gremlin.
“Oh my god,” you muttered, dropping onto the couch like gravity had finally won. “You’re all insane.”
Jungwon wandered over and sat beside you, already reaching for the plastic bag. “I’m just here for the roast chicken,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Can someone pass me a leg?”
Jake, still crouched like a man dodging emotional bullets, gently placed the bag on the coffee table like it was a sacred offering. Then he looked over at you, head tilted, eyes wide and hopeful.
“So,” he said softly, “can I explain now? No hitting this time?”
You stared at him.
He grinned anyway.
And unfortunately for him, he was still within arm’s reach.
—
You sat on the couch like a judge ready to deliver a life sentence, arms crossed so tightly your shoulders were starting to cramp. The look on your face could’ve wilted houseplants. Jake, for once in his life, had the good sense to sit on the floor at a safe distance, hands folded on the coffee table like he was about to pitch a startup you were morally opposed to.
Jungwon sat cross-legged between you, gnawing on a chicken leg and swiveling his head left and right like a referee at a very dramatic tennis match.
“So,” Jake began carefully, voice high and overly gentle, “first of all, I just want to say that I love and appreciate you—”
“No,” you cut in, eyes locked on him. “Start with the part where you volunteered me—your best friend, your roommate, your tragically broke companion in poverty—to pretend to date Lee Heeseung. The CEO. The multi-billionaire. Your boss.”
Jake opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again.
Jungwon, through a mouthful of chicken, offered, “That guy’s scarier than my thesis supervisor. And mine once made someone cry over a missing footnote.”
“THANK YOU!” you shouted, pointing at Jake like you were about to sentence him to community service.
Jake threw his hands up. “Okay, okay, yes, I panicked! Grandpa Lee was in the office, demanding to know why Heeseung was single, and I didn’t know what to say! So your name just—came out!”
“Like a demon leaving your body?” you snapped.
Jake pointed a finger at you. “Also, this is kind of your fault!”
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
“HE SAID YOU BUMPED INTO HIM!” Jake practically shouted, voice cracking. “And he saw, like, four bread rolls in your arms!”
“It was three!” you yelled, scandalized.
Jake flailed. “Okay, THREE! Doesn’t change the fact that Grandpa Lee saw you, assumed you were stealing company bread, and decided obviously you and Heeseung were secretly dating.”
You stared at him. “In what world does that even make sense—”
“SO THIS IS YOUR FAULT!” Jake yelled dramatically, pointing like you’d been caught on a crime scene.
You gaped. “I didn’t know the old man I bumped into was Heeseung’s grandfather! How is that my fault?!”
“I don’t know!” Jake shouted back. “But somehow it is!”
Jungwon raised a hand without looking up. “To be fair, you did look suspicious carrying that much bread.”
“I WAS HUNGRY!” you barked.
Jake groaned. “Look, I didn’t plan this, okay? It happened. It’s done. And now we just need to go along with it for a few fake dates—three, four tops—and we’re good.”
You glared. “This is literally fraud.”
Jake held up a finger. “This is capitalism—and you get paid. Five hundred per date.”
You opened your mouth to yell again—then paused.
Because five hundred… times four…
Your gaze dropped to the roast chicken on the table, suspiciously thoughtful.
Jake leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “You’re doing the math.”
“No.”
“You are.”
Jungwon didn’t miss a beat. “Two grand.”
“Shut up,” you and Jake snapped in unison.
You sagged into the couch like the weight of student loans had finally won. “He’s not even going to like me.”
Jake tilted his head. “He already noticed you. Asked about the girl who ‘wiped her mouth with her sleeve like she was raised in the wild.’”
Jungwon snorted so hard he nearly choked.
You exhaled, long and slow. “...Fine.”
Jake’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.
“But if this backfires,” you said, pointing a chicken drumstick at him with all the gravitas of a loaded weapon, “I’m shitting in your room.”
Jake didn’t even blink. “That’s fair.”
Jungwon nodded solemnly. “Reasonable terms.”
—
As Heeseung always said—often, and with great pride—he wasn’t the relationship type.
Too much work. Too much noise. Too many unnecessary emotions clogging up the schedule.
People around him dated like it was a seasonal hobby. Fell in love in spring, broke up by fall, recycled the whole cycle again by winter. But for Heeseung? It had never been appealing. He didn’t need anyone. He liked being alone. He thrived alone.
He was an expert at sidestepping dating scandals. A pro at slipping out of flirty conversations with a well-timed smile and a conveniently urgent phone call. He could survive dinner parties full of “When are you getting married?” aunties without so much as a twitch in his left eye.
Composed. Controlled. Untouchable.
Until now.
Now, he was sitting in his office—his very sleek, very expensive office—surrounded by floor-to-ceiling glass, watching the Seoul skyline stretch out like a smug reminder that his life was supposed to be pristine.
And it was. Mostly.
His suit was charcoal grey, custom-tailored. His coffee, bitter and scalding, sat in its perfectly symmetrical spot on the table. His hair, of course, was slicked back with enough precision to win a military medal. Everything in his life was polished.
Everything… except this one absurd detail.
He exhaled slowly.
Jake.
Jake and his chronically reckless mouth.
This wasn’t the usual “Oops, I told the intern you’d review their pitch” kind of trouble.
This was “Oops, I told my grandpa you’re dating a girl you don’t know, and now she’s coming to a meeting at 2:30” kind of trouble.
Heeseung had handled high-stakes mergers. He’d stared down stone-faced investors and charmed half a dozen billionaires before lunch. But now? Now he was apparently in a fake relationship.
And paying for it.
Five hundred dollars per date.
He wasn’t sure which part offended him more—the relationship, or the invoice.
Jake had made it sound like she was some half-wild creature who pillaged the office pantry and vanished into the wind. Which… wasn't entirely inaccurate. But what Jake didn’t know—and what Heeseung would rather jump out the boardroom window than admit—was that he had noticed her.
Actually, he’d remembered her quite clearly.
Big eyes. Crumbs on her cheek. Confidence like she owned the place, despite clearly not belonging there. She’d looked him dead in the eye with a mouthful of bread and the pure, unbothered energy of someone who’d never been told “no” in her life. Honestly? It was a little bit impressive.
And yes. Fine. Maybe she was cute.
Not that it mattered.
Because Heeseung didn’t do feelings. He didn’t get involved. He didn’t believe in all that heart-fluttering, stars-aligning nonsense.
Cute or not, this wasn’t going to turn into anything.
It was just a favor. A fake setup. A temporary solution to a very loud grandfather.
That was all.
Heeseung leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and breathed through his growing irritation. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to perform feelings. He didn’t want to drink overpriced coffee with some girl pretending to be his girlfriend so his matchmaking grandfather could sleep peacefully at night.
A quick glance at his watch: 2:27 p.m.
—
You were pinching Jake’s side like your entire financial future depended on it.
“Ow!” he yelped for the third time, swatting at your hand. “Okay, I need those ribs!”
You didn’t care.
You were terrified.
No—beyond terrified. Every synonym in the English language applied. Petrified, horrified, on-the-verge-of-spontaneous-combustion. Your heart was trying to launch itself into space. Your soul was threatening to exit your body via sheer panic.
“Breathe,” Jake said gently, trying to peel your claw-like grip off his hoodie. “You’re gonna be fine. You look amazing. Honestly, if you weren’t my best friend, I would've totally tried to kiss you by now.”
“You’re not helping, Jaeyun,” you hissed, teeth clenched, eyes wide and manic like you’d just seen the end of civilization.
“Right, sorry,” he said quickly—still grinning, because Jake had zero fear of death, apparently.
You glanced at your watch.
2:25.
Ten minutes until showtime.
Your heart was doing Olympic-level gymnastics. Your stomach was performing Cirque du Soleil. Your brain was stuck on a loop of elevator music and “what if” scenarios.
You looked ahead—at the sleek, modern glass door of Heeseung’s office. Too clean. Too intimidating. Too expensive-looking. Even the potted plants screamed, You don’t belong here.
The panic hit like a freight train.
Without thinking, you grabbed Jake’s arm and yanked him back, nearly slamming both of you into a very offended-looking potted plant near the elevator.
“I can’t do this,” you whispered, voice shaking, hands clammy. “I cannot do this.”
Jake blinked. “Whoa—okay. Deep breath. You can do this. You’re just nervous.”
“Nervous is messing up a group project. This is like—I don’t know—faking a relationship with a corporate cyborg while praying I don’t end up blacklisted from every job ever.”
Jake made a soothing gesture. “He’s just a guy. A guy in a very expensive suit with the social skills of a brick and a caffeine addiction that’s borderline medical.”
You let out a half-sob. “Jake, what if I say something weird? What if I trip? What if he hates me on sight and then cancels the whole thing and somehow calls my school and gets me expelled just for existing—”
“Hey.” Jake grabbed your shoulders, firm but gentle. “Look at me.”
You did. Barely.
“You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re gorgeous. You’re the only person I trust with this because you’re the only one who could handle him. Even when he’s acting like some emotionally stunted AI in a suit.”
You sniffed. “I hate you.”
Jake smiled, soft and annoyingly sincere. “Love you too. Now breathe, princess.”
You inhaled. Exhaled.
Inhaled again. Slower.
It helped. Barely. But it helped.
Jake stepped back and nudged you gently toward the glass doors. “Go in there. Pretend you like him. Pretend you’re not thinking about chicken. Smile. Look mysterious. Say something deep like, ‘I don’t really believe in love.’ He’ll be confused. That’s how you win.”
A dry laugh escaped you—half squirrel, half dying engine. But still. A laugh.
Your watch blinked again.
2:28.
Showtime.
You straightened your shoulders, fixed your expression into something halfway pleasant, and took a step forward.
Let the corporate fake dating games begin.
—-
Heeseung sat alone in his office, posture perfect, fingers wrapped loosely around a coffee cup. His suit was sharp, pressed so crisply it practically gleamed. His expression, as always, unreadable.
Except for the slight crease in his brow.
Because she was late.
He glanced at his watch.
2:31.
Not catastrophic. But still. He didn’t like being made to wait. Especially not by someone he was paying.
He exhaled quietly, sipped his coffee, and shifted his gaze to the window—
—just in time to watch a girl crash headfirst into the glass office door.
He blinked.
There was a muffled thud, followed by a dramatic, “OW, MY FACE!” and Jake’s voice yelling, “OH MY GOD, ARE YOU OKAY?!”
The girl stumbled back, one hand pressed to her forehead, the other still valiantly clutching a bubble tea with a bent straw and a leaking lid. Her dress was cute, her hair a little windswept, and her face was lit up in full, blazing embarrassment.
Heeseung stared.
“This is your fault,” she snapped at Jake, rubbing the growing red mark on her forehead.
“If you hadn’t roped me into this, I wouldn’t have walked straight into your invisible death door.”
Jake gasped, wounded. “My fault?! Are you blind?! The door wasn’t even moving!”
“I was panicking! I thought you were going to shove me through it like a sacrificial lamb!”
“You were already walking!”
“You said, ‘smile and act normal’ right before I hit it. What part of that was helpful?!”
“You looked cute! Until, you know… the impact.”
Inside the office, Heeseung remained still. Coffee in hand. Silent. Watching.
Through the glass, their chaotic little argument carried on without shame. You were waving your hands in frustration; Jake was holding your elbow with exaggerated concern, both exasperated and wildly entertained.
It was loud. Messy. Unprofessional.
It was… oddly funny.
A faint tug pulled at the corner of Heeseung’s mouth before he even noticed it.
Not quite a laugh. Not quite a smirk.
Just… the suggestion of something warm.
Jake finally spotted him and started waving like a man trying to signal an aircraft.
“Let’s go already! He hates tardiness.”
You turned.
Your eyes met Heeseung’s through the glass—annoyed, wide-eyed, bubble tea still clutched like a fallen soldier in one hand.
Heeseung raised his coffee in silent acknowledgment.
And nodded.
You swallowed. “Great,” you muttered. “He saw all of that, didn’t he?”
“Every second,” Jake said cheerfully.
You groaned and took a cautious step forward. Jake placed a hand on your back and gently—but undeniably—shoved you through the door like you were an offering to royalty.
He guided you across the room like a handler walking a nervous show dog.
“Mr. Lee,” Jake said smoothly, already shifting into his polished Assistant Mode. “This is my friend.”
Heeseung didn’t respond right away. His gaze remained fixed on his coffee mug, fingers tapping lightly along the rim like it was conducting an orchestra only he could hear.
You stood stiffly in front of him, hands clasped like you were about to deliver a public apology. Jake stood beside you with the smug energy of a man watching chaos unfold exactly as he planned.
Finally, Heeseung looked up.
His eyes moved from Jake to you.
To your forehead.
Back to your eyes.
“…You’re late,” he said flatly.
You blinked. “It’s 2:32.”
“Yes,” Heeseung replied. “Which is not 2:30. Like we originally planned.”
Your jaw twitched. “Psycho,” you muttered, just loud enough for a small god to hear.
Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
You straightened. “Sorry. I meant… yes, I know. Won’t happen again.”
Jake nudged your side and whispered, “Off to a strong start.”
—
The past five minutes were the longest of your life.
You stared at your feet. Then your thumbs. Then the floor again, like something might appear to save you. A trapdoor, maybe. Or the sweet embrace of the earth swallowing you whole.
Heeseung, meanwhile, had been staring at you. The entire time.
Not speaking. Not blinking. Just… watching.
Jake sat between you like a silent referee, sipping his coffee with the energy of someone watching a sitcom he’d accidentally created.
It was weird. Weird. Weird. Unbearably weird.
Finally, mercifully, Heeseung cleared his throat. The sound cut through the silence like a scalpel.
“I prepared a contract,” he said, voice calm. Businesslike. As if you weren’t about two minutes away from passing out in his office.
You blinked. “A contract? For something as—” you stopped, but it was too late—“as stupid as this?”
There was a pause.
Heeseung’s brow lifted. Just slightly. “Stupid?”
You froze. Your mouth opened. Nothing helpful came out.
“I didn’t mean—it’s not—I’M stupid,” you blurted, clapping your hands over your face. “That’s what I meant. I’m stupid. Please ignore everything I say for the next ten years.”
Jake choked on his drink.
You kept your face buried in your palms, wondering if anyone in the building would trade places with you. Janitor? Security guard? Plant in the corner?
Heeseung said nothing. For a long second.
Then, very dryly: “Good to know.”
You groaned.
Jake leaned over, voice low and unhelpfully cheerful. “You’re doing great.”
“Mr. Lee has written up a draft of the contract,” Jake said, slipping into full assistant mode, posture straight, tone clipped and professional.
You squinted at him. “Ew. Why are you talking like that?”
Jake glanced at you, then back at Heeseung with a sigh. “I’m working, you idiot,” he muttered under his breath.
“Oh. Right.” You scratched your neck, sheepish. “Forgot.”
Across the table, Heeseung bit his bottom lip—subtly, quickly—but it didn’t go unnoticed. His gaze lingered on you, and for the first time since you walked into the room, something shifted. His eyes didn’t look annoyed anymore.
Amused, maybe. Just slightly.
Dangerously close to smiling.
Jake cleared his throat, snapping back to task. “In the contract,” he continued, “you’ll find a breakdown of the terms—including Mr. Lee’s expectations, your responsibilities as his… companion—” he winced a little at the word “companion,” “—and a list of things you’re explicitly not allowed to do.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Like what? Wear Crocs in public?”
Jake didn’t miss a beat. “Actually, yes. Clause six.”
Your jaw dropped. “You’re joking.”
Heeseung finally spoke, smooth and unbothered. “I don’t joke about footwear.”
You stared at him.
He stared back.
Jake leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee again like he was watching live theatre.
“Okay… and what else?” you asked, trying—and failing—to sound chill.
Jake cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. “Clause five…Physical…”
Heeseung looked up, expectant. “Yes?”
Jake made a face like he was already regretting his entire existence. “Do I… have to explain it?”
“Yes,” Heeseung said calmly, without even looking up from the contract. “It’s in the terms.”
You squinted at him. “Terms? What is this, fake dating or joining the military?”
Jake pressed on. “Physical contact. Mr. Lee has stated that there should be… none. Or at least not without clear, mutual agreement. No uninvited touching. No sudden… anything. Basically—don’t grope the CEO.”
You choked. “What?! I wasn’t—Why would—That wasn’t even on the table—”
Jake raised both hands. “I’m just reading the clause!”
Your face went red. Hot. Instantly.
You turned to Heeseung, eyes wide. “Not that I was planning to touch you or anything! Like, why would I—Not that you’re—okay, you are technically—”
You made a sound that wasn't even a word and slapped a hand over your own mouth.
Jake let out a slow, gleeful exhale. “This is so much better than I imagined.”
You groaned and sank lower in your seat. “I hate it here.”
Heeseung, annoyingly composed, glanced up at you. His expression unreadable… but his lips twitched. Barely.
You swore he was enjoying this.
You had been in the office for an hour.
One full hour.
Sixty minutes of your life you were never getting back, spent listening to Jake read through a contract like a local news anchor trying to make tax reform sound exciting.
“…Clause twelve: Should the second party—meaning you—be asked to attend any corporate function, you will refrain from referring to the first party—meaning Mr. Lee—as ‘my sugar daddy,’ even in jest.”
You blinked. “That… needed to be clarified?”
Jake didn’t look up. “You’d be surprised.”
You slowly slid further down in your seat, gripping your bubble tea like it was the last tether to your sanity. Your legs had gone numb. Your dignity had long since packed its bags and fled the room. And the worst part?
You still had to sign this thing.
All this—for a whopping two grand.
Across the table, Heeseung was unmoved. He hadn’t spoken in the last twenty minutes, just sipped his now-cold coffee and occasionally made a small note in the margins like he was preparing for a stockholders’ meeting instead of a fake relationship.
Jake flipped the page. “Clause thirteen…”
You groaned. “There are thirteen?”
Jake looked up. “We’re only halfway through.”
You dropped your head to the table.
This was your life now.
—
You had officially entered hour two of your Fake Dating Orientation.
Jake, your overly enthusiastic best friend and traitor to your dignity, was seated across from you like a talk show host who’d been waiting all day for the drama. He’d already gone through the entire contract. Twice. And now, unfortunately, it was time for the “chemistry test.”
“We’re going to do a little practice,” he announced, clasping his hands together. “Let’s see how well you two can sell this.”
You blinked. “Sell what, exactly?”
Jake beamed. “That you’re in love, of course.”
You visibly recoiled. “Oh god.”
Heeseung, seated beside you, didn’t say anything, but his entire body tensed like he’d just been told he had to perform on a game show. His fingers gripped the armrest, jaw tight.
You glanced at him.
He glanced at you.
Then you both looked in opposite directions so fast it would’ve given a chiropractor whiplash.
Jake leaned forward, utterly enjoying himself. “Okay. Pretend you’re on a casual third date. You’re into each other. You’re comfortable. There’s hand-holding. Eye contact. Smiles. Soft laughter. Possibly some light touching of the knee if you're really ambitious.”
You turned your head just enough to catch Heeseung already looking your way. Your eyes met. Instantly, you looked back at the floor.
Your cheeks were burning.
So were his ears.
Jake let out the loudest, most exaggerated sigh in human history. “You two haven’t even held hands yet.”
“I don’t—this is ridiculous. I don’t need acting lessons,” Heeseung muttered, running a hand through his hair in mild frustration, clearly more flustered than he was willing to admit.
“Clearly you do,” you mumbled under your breath.
He turned his head slowly. “Your face is flushed.”
You raised a brow. “Your ears are red.”
That shut him up.
For a second, the two of you just stared at each other. Not blinking. Not smiling. Like two cats waiting to see who flinched first.
Then you both sneered. Simultaneously.
Jake, watching from the corner of the room like a director overseeing a painfully awkward indie film, clapped once. “Amazing. So natural. This is going great. Really convincing chemistry.”
You and Heeseung didn’t look away from each other.
He raised an eyebrow like this was some kind of silent battle.
You narrowed your eyes in return, mouth twitching.
Jake clapped his hands together like a game show host about to announce the bonus round. “Alright. Let’s take it out there.”
You squinted at him. “Out where? Hell?”
Jake ignored the comment. “The office. The hallway. The real world. You two need a test run.”
Heeseung exhaled through his nose. “This is stupid.”
Jake raised a brow. “Should I just go ahead and reschedule that SunTech date, then? I’m sure she’d love a Thursday dinner.”
Heeseung shot him a look. “You’re forgetting you work for me.”
Jake smiled sweetly. “And you’re forgetting you need me to fix this mess.”
You, meanwhile, were sprawled on the couch like an exhausted Victorian heroine. “I’m bored.”
Jake turned, hands on hips. “You’re getting paid five hundred dollars per date to fake-date a CEO. Try to look alive.”
“Fine,” you groaned, hauling yourself up. “Let’s get this over with. What exactly do you want us to do? Gaze longingly into each other’s souls and whisper sweet nothings about fiscal responsibility?”
Heeseung rolled his eyes. “She’s really dramatic.”
“And you’re really uptight,” you shot back.
Jake clapped again, delighted. “Perfect. Just like a real couple.”
You both glared at him.
“Okay,” Jake continued, stepping into director mode. “Stage one: casual physical affection. We’re going for subtle intimacy. Nothing over-the-top. Just enough to make people go, ‘Hmm. They might be sleeping together.’”
Heeseung nearly choked on air.
You blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
Jake gestured between you like a choreographer. “Heeseung, arm around her waist. And you, try not to look like you’re being taken hostage.”
Heeseung looked vaguely alarmed. “Do I have to?”
“Yes,” Jake said cheerfully. “Like you’ve touched another human being before. Preferably without looking like it’s a tax audit.”
There was a long pause.
Then, reluctantly, Heeseung stepped closer. His hand hovered awkwardly near your waist like it had never been introduced to the concept of touch.
You raised your eyebrows. “You’re not disarming a bomb.”
He cleared his throat. “You’re… shorter than I thought.”
“I’m wearing flats.”
“Still. Noted.”
Jake watched with glee as Heeseung finally, finally placed his hand on your waist—so lightly it was barely there. You tensed anyway. Because apparently your nervous system hadn’t signed off on this level of contact.
Jake turned to you. “And you, sweetheart, try not to smile like you’re being held at gunpoint.”
You bared your teeth in what could only generously be described as a grimace.
Heeseung glanced at you. “That’s your fake dating face?”
“It’s a work in progress.”
“You look like you’re about to offer me life insurance.”
You sighed. “Okay, let’s not pretend you’re Mr. Suave. You touched me like I’m made of porcelain and trauma.”
“I didn’t want to overstep.”
Jake, now leaning on the doorway like a proud parent at a talent show, was positively glowing. “This is amazing. I should be charging admission.”
You groaned. “Are we done yet?”
“Almost,” Jake said, eyes twinkling. “Now walk out there. Just a quick lap around the office. Arm around her waist. Maybe whisper something flirty if you’re feeling bold. Bonus points if someone drops their coffee.”
You turned to Heeseung, who looked like he’d rather be hit by a bus.
He glanced back at you.
You both exhaled.
And in perfect, miserable unison, you muttered, “Let’s just get this over with.”
—-
At the entrance of Heeseung’s office, Jake had—because of course he did—another brilliant idea.
“Let’s try a… scenario,” he’d said, eyes gleaming like he’d just discovered a new form of social torture. “Something romantic. Circumstantial. Like you just got caught in a moment. You know, one of those ‘oh, didn’t see you there, just happened to be holding each other and laughing softly’ kind of deals.”
You and Heeseung stared at him in silence.
Jake pointed to the glass wall just beside the door. “Over there. That’s your stage.”
So now, here you were—pressed awkwardly to the side of the office entrance, standing shoulder to shoulder with Lee Heeseung, the human embodiment of a luxury watch ad.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
“I’m gonna be completely honest,” you whispered, glancing up at him. “I forgot the plan.”
He looked down at you, the corner of his mouth twitching. “There shouldn’t be a plan.”
You frowned. “What?”
“This kind of thing,” he said, voice lower now, thoughtful, “should be natural. If we rehearse every little move, it’ll look fake.”
You didn’t respond right away.
Because honestly?
You had no idea how to make it look real.
You’d never been on a fake date before.
Actually, you’d never even been on a real date.
You’d spent your entire life chasing deadlines, side gigs, tuition payments, and discount ramen packs—love had never exactly made it into the schedule. Flirting was an optional elective you never had time to take. The closest you’d ever gotten to romantic tension was arguing with a vending machine.
And now here you were. Being gently stared at by a man with cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and eyes like he was actually trying to understand you. You had half a mind to pull the fire alarm and flee.
Instead, you cleared your throat and said, “Right. Natural. Got it. So should I just… laugh at nothing? Flip my hair and pretend you said something charming?”
Heeseung smirked—actually smirked—and looked away. “You’re really bad at this.”
“I’m trying,” you hissed.
“I can tell.”
You gave him a sharp look. “Well, you’re not exactly oozing romance either, Mr. Emotionally Constipated.”
He huffed a small laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “Do you always insult the people you fake date?”
“Just the ones who critique my performance before the show starts.”
He glanced back at you then, gaze lingering a bit longer this time. “You’re nervous.”
You stiffened. “No, I’m not.”
“You’re fidgeting.”
“No, I’m—”
“You keep tapping your fingers.”
You looked down. Your hand was, in fact, tapping against your thigh like it was performing a solo.
“…It’s called rhythm,” you muttered.
Heeseung just gave you a look.
And for a moment, just a moment, the tension shifted. Slightly softer. Slightly less unbearable.
Heeseung exhaled slowly and said, almost reluctantly, “Let’s just… be still for a second. Pretend we’re mid-conversation. Look relaxed.”
You nodded.
Neither of you moved.
From inside the office, Jake was pressed dramatically against the glass, holding his phone up like he was filming a nature documentary.
You both ignored him.
Mostly.
Then, quietly, Heeseung said, “You’ve never done this before, have you?”
You blinked. “What, pretend to be someone’s fake girlfriend?”
He didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow.
You hesitated. Then sighed. “I’ve never been any kind of girlfriend.”
Heeseung looked at you.
Not judgmental. Not surprised.
Just… quiet.
And for the first time, you wished this moment wasn’t fake. Just for a second.
Then Jake knocked on the glass like a proud zookeeper.
“THAT LOOKS AMAZING!” he yelled. “Now do a forehead touch!”
You turned back to Heeseung, mortified.
“Don’t,” you warned.
Heeseung nodded. “Absolutely not.”
But when he looked at you again, his ears were pink. And this time, yours were too.
—-
The next few days were absolutely unhinged.
When Jake told you Heeseung was meticulous, you thought he meant the occasional Google Calendar reminder. What he actually meant was: this man plans your fake relationship like it’s a Fortune 500 company launch.
From Monday to Friday, he had everything scheduled down to the minute.
Monday
"Coffee shop. 2 p.m. Look approachable."
Those were his exact words. Not cute. Not casual. Approachable. Like you were a storefront. You showed up early—naturally—and promptly spilled oat milk across the table trying to jab your straw into your cup. It exploded like a dairy crime scene.
Heeseung just stared at you. Then slid a napkin across the table, deadpan. You muttered, “You're welcome for the entertainment.”
You made fun of his black coffee. “You drink it like a bitter old man who’s lost faith in humanity.”
He looked at your lavender oat milk iced monstrosity. “And your drink choices are one of a six-year-old’s.”
You laughed.
He didn’t.
But his eyes softened. Just a little.
Tuesday
PR strategy, according to Jake: “Be seen. Look adorable. Pretend you like each other.”
You: showed up in his office.
Also you: immediately raided the pantry and stole three muffins.
Heeseung watched from his desk. Said nothing. Pretended to type very seriously while clearly watching you.
You plopped down on his couch, opened your laptop, and made very dramatic “working” noises.
At one point, your laptop screen dimmed. Before you could even react, he walked over silently and plugged in your charger.
You blinked. “Oh. Thanks.” He just shrugged and returned to his desk. But you caught it. The ghost of a smile as he sat down. Like he was trying not to like you. Failing, obviously.

Wednesday
You accompanied him to a fake business lunch.
There were women in designer outfits, expensive perfume clouding the air, and stiletto heels you were sure doubled as weapons. They looked at you like you’d crawled out from under the table.You sat there in an old blouse your mom gave you, heart thumping in your chest, suddenly hyper-aware of the ketchup stain you thought you removed.
You fidgeted. Overthought. Considered hiding under the table.
Then Heeseung leaned in, so close his breath grazed your ear. “You’re doing fine.” That was it. Just those words.
And you didn’t remember a single thing after that. You just nodded and smiled and let those three words replay in your head like a calming song.
Later, in the car, you kicked off your heels like they’d personally betrayed you. He raised an eyebrow.
“A little dramatic, no?”
“I’ve suffered,” you whined.
He handed you a water bottle and rolled the windows down.
“You’re welcome,” he said.
You rested your feet on the dash. Caught him looking at you at a red light.
He looked away too fast. Suspiciously fast.
Thursday
You brought takeout to his office, unannounced.
He looked up when you entered, blinking like you’d just done something absurd. “You brought food?”
“Yes. Humans eat. Shocking, I know.”
You sat on the floor beside his desk. He joined you. In a full suit. Cross-legged like a model student, tie undone, sleeves rolled to his forearms. You offered him a dumpling. He took it. No hesitation.
You grinned. “Isn’t it so good?”
He chewed. “Greasy.”
“But good?”
He hesitated. “If I say yes, will you stop bothering me?”
“No.”
“Then yes.”
You pretended not to notice the way his eyes lingered on your face longer than they needed to.
Friday
You were late. By five minutes.
He texted: “Late.”
You texted back: “Cry about it.”
He didn’t reply.
You arrived out of breath, annoyed, hair windswept and bag hanging off one shoulder like you’d run a marathon to get there.
He just handed you a drink. Your favorite.
Didn’t say anything. Didn’t look smug. Just passed it to you with one hand and opened the door to a rooftop garden with the other. Of course he had a rooftop garden. Because he was secretly the male lead of a tragic romantic comedy and you were starting to hate how well the role fit.
You sat on the bench beside him, knees brushing under the table. “You’re so serious all the time,” you said, teasing. “Do you even know how to smile?” He scoffed.
“Do you even know how to tell a joke?”
“Excuse me—I am hilarious.”
“You’re… something.”
—-
You lay in bed, burrito-wrapped in your blanket, one arm tucked under your head and the other dramatically thrown across your eyes like a Victorian ghost overcome by mild emotional instability.
Your ceiling stared back at you like it knew.
And unfortunately, your brain did that thing it loved to do: play a full highlight reel of the past week.
It had been five days.
Five fake dates.
You were getting paid five hundred dollars per day to pretend to like Lee Heeseung.
That was the deal. The entire deal. Nothing more, nothing less.
And honestly? Not a bad one. Amazing hourly rate. Low stakes. You just had to hang out with a man who looked like a luxury perfume ad and acted like a spreadsheet given life.
You could do that.
You had survived retail during Christmas and three years of sharing a bathroom with Jungwon.
And yet… somehow, you were the one spiraling.
Because Heeseung wasn’t awful.
Actually—he was kind of…
Nice.
Underneath the sleek suits and emotionally stunted persona, he was… oddly considerate. The kind of guy who noticed when your laptop was dying and plugged it in without comment. Who remembered your coffee order after one chaotic spill. Who didn’t flinch when you shoved dumplings into his mouth like a sleepover buddy instead of a business partner.
And okay, fine. He was also really easy on the eyes.
With his annoyingly sharp jawline and those lips that were probably illegal in several countries. And the way his tie loosened around his neck by Thursday, and how he laughed—actually laughed—at your dumb joke on Friday.
You groaned and rolled onto your stomach, burying your face into your pillow.
“Nope. No. Absolutely not.”
You barely knew him. You’d been fake-dating for a week. You didn’t even know what kind of music he liked. For all you knew, he could be a hardcore jazz saxophone guy. Or worse—he liked podcasts about finance.
This wasn’t real. You were faking it.
Professionally.
And still…
You wondered what it would feel like to hold his hand with no one watching. No “scene” to pull off. No Grandpa to impress. Just… you. And him. And the quiet weight of something unsaid.
You wondered—horrifyingly—what it would feel like to kiss him.
Just once.
Just to see.
You smacked your forehead. “I need therapy.”
The worst part? It wasn’t even entirely about Heeseung.
You were realizing, in a slow, sinking kind of way, that your romantic life was… embarrassing.
Jake, your best friend-slash-chaos goblin, didn’t count. Jungwon, your honorary brother, sure as hell didn’t count. And your last date had been someone who said “let’s split the bill” and then left you with it.
You hadn’t been around someone kissable in a long time.
And now you were being paid to fake-date someone who might actually ruin your life if you let him.
You groaned into your mattress again.
At this rate, you were going to fall for your fake boyfriend before your first paycheck cleared.
—
Heeseung was not sleeping.
It was after midnight. The city outside was quiet. His entire house was dark.
And all he could think about… was you.
Which made no sense.
You had shown up in his life like a whirlwind. Unpredictable. Loud. Crumb-covered. You drank rainbow-colored lattes and wiped your mouth on your sleeve and called his contract “stupid” without blinking.
But you’d also fed him dumplings on the office floor—the office floor—which he’d never sat on in his life. But then you’d whined, kicked your feet like a brat, and said, “Just join me. Or are you too much of a rich bitch to?”
And that was all it took for Lee Heeseung—the picture of corporate perfection—to sit beside you, cross-legged, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You’d teased him until he smiled without realizing. You’d let your legs rest on the dashboard and talked about nothing like it mattered. And you hadn’t cared who he was. Not the CEO. Not the heir. Just… Heeseung.
He exhaled, staring at the ceiling with all the enthusiasm of a man confronting his own emotional shortcomings.
Was he really catching feelings after five “fake” dates?
Apparently, yes.
Which was alarming.
He had spent his entire adult life navigating business galas and high-end blind dates with elegant, polished women. The kind who wore heels taller than his emotional range. He knew how to charm. How to play the part.
And yet none of them had ever stuck.
None of them made his hands twitch when they leaned in.
None of them made him smile like an idiot when they were five minutes late.
But you?
You with your loud opinions and easy laughter and tendency to steal muffins like they were currency?
You were dangerous.
And you were fake.
A fake girlfriend, in a fake arrangement, for a fake relationship.
And yet here he was—imagining what your hand might feel like in his. What your laugh might sound like in his apartment, in the morning, when you were still sleepy.
Heeseung groaned and dragged a hand down his face.
This wasn’t good.
He was supposed to be managing this. Keeping things professional. Keeping his head clear.
Instead, he was lying awake at 1:34 a.m., thinking about your smile and the way your voice got all soft when you called him out for being too serious.
God help him.
He was catching feelings.
And he was completely, utterly screwed.
part 2
More Posts from Jaeyuniversal and Others
── .✦ found you (sjy)
pairing: non idol! jake x fem! reader
synopsis: jake is very well known and loved by everybody on campus. equally popular was his relationship with the captain of the volleyball team, haneul. even more popular, sadly, is his breakup after more than a year. the months following the event take a significant toll on jake, who becomes unrecognizable. his once sweet, friendly and pure nature is replaced by a constant gloomy and somber aura. what happens when this new version of jake sim unexpectedly clashes with a very straightforward and quite intimidating member of the school’s podcast?
genre: acquaintances to friends to lovers , college au , slowburn-ish , fluff , a bit of angst , healing , comfort - wc: 9.3k - warnings: swearing , mention of alcohol , violence (fighting) , cheating (not the main leads) , toxic relationship (not the main leads) , kissing , ft. enhypen (they are all the same age here) , lowercase intended ! , english is not my first language ! , this is a work of fiction and doesn’t reflect the idols in real life ! - author’s notes: i wanted to try and make something longer, i hope you’ll enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it! ++ i’m sorry but i absolutely am terrible at writing kissing/intimate scenes. i’m warning you in advance!
────
JAKE SIM IS KNOWN FOR BEING THE NICEST AND SWEETEST BOY ON CAMPUS.
jake sim is known for being one of the most handsome boys on campus.
jake sim is known for being part of the football team, but also for not being a jock, not even in the slightest.
jake sim is known for having dated the captain of the volleyball team, haneul, for more than a year.
but jake sim is mainly known for being cheated on by said girl.
ever since his messy breakup, nothing has been the same. he hasn’t been the same. he doesn’t even remember the last time he genuinely wanted to do something and didn’t have to be dragged out of his dorm room by his friends.
well, at least he still has them.
heeseung, jay and sunghoon are his childhood best friends, they literally grew up together and lived every experience together. even each other’s heartbreaks. they’re great guys, they’ve always been there for jake and he can’t ever complain about them, not even when they start being too insistent on his worst days. at the end of the day, they’re only trying to help. they don’t say it out loud, they never did, but they’re deeply concerned about their best friend.
the breakup took a pretty heavy toll on jake and they slowly had to witness their lively, sweet and considerate friend turn into a gloomy, unenthusiastic and weary guy. he would barely talk, nothing seemed to excite him, not even his biggest passions. that’s why he also quit the football team, even though he was probably the best player. he would spend all his free time locked in his room and he would leave the house exclusively to attend his lessons.
some people may think that this reaction is exaggerated, that he shouldn’t lose himself because of a girl, because of love. but nobody, except for his best friends, knows the real dynamics of the event. what people know and like to talk about in the hallways is that poor jake sim was cheated on by the smoking hot captain of the volleyball team. to be honest, many people used to question why they were even dating in the first place and weren’t surprised when the relationship ended the way it did. i mean, they certainly were a match visually, they are both amongst the most stunning students on campus. but their respective reputations are what made people question their relationship.
jake was known for being one of the best football players on the team, but the total opposite of your typical jock. the same couldn’t be said about haneul. it’s not that she was a player, she was just still stuck on his ex boyfriend, with whom she had always had a sort of an on and off situationship ever since their breakup. but after meeting jake, it looked like she was finally getting over her ex. she hadn’t met him again and she really seemed like she was seriously in love again.
but appearances can be deceiving. and jake was too blinded by love to notice haneul slowly slipping away from him and silently going back to her old habits.
────
“I’M SCREWED.”
you dramatically grumbled as you plopped down in the chair of one of the cafeteria’s tables, your friends already seated.
“what happened now?” jungwon asked, trying to sound concerned, but being betrayed by the amused glint in his cat-like eyes.
“did you make another freshman run away in fear?” teased sunoo.
“or did the principal admonish you again for what you said in the podcast?” suggested ni-ki.
“i really need new friends.” you muttered under your breath.
“okay, okay. sorry. tell us what’s wrong.” jungwon was quick to turn serious, the last thing he wanted was to annoy you even more.
“okay, so. you know yeji, right?” you started.
“the president of your podcast?” sunoo interjected.
“didn’t she leave for her exchange year in europe?” added ni-ki.
“exactly. well, as the substitute president of the podcast, i am in charge of pretty much everything now. and the biggest issue at the moment is to find a new speaker. i was supposed to do it during summer break, but i completely forgot. so now i’m screwed because i have the first meeting with the others in two days and i absolutely have to find someone by then.”
“okay, this could be a problem..” sunoo whispered, making you groan in desperation.
“okay, okay. we can fix this.” jungwon was quick to butt in. “first of all, do you have someone specific in mind? like, a certain kind of person that you think could fit for the role?”
“i mean, i really wanted to find someone really suited for it. but now, i think i’ll just have to settle for whoever i find. and i need to do it quickly.” you grumbled again, annoyed at yourself for having completely forgotten such an important task.
“i think you could still find someone good enough. you could maybe ask someone who knows a lot of people?” sunoo added.
“why don’t you ask heeseung? he’s popular and knows basically half of the students on campus.” suggested ni-ki.
“oh my god! you’re right!” you jumped up, quickly scanning the cafeteria in search of a very familiar face.
“found him! thank you so much, see you guys later.” and then you scurried to the other side of the room, where heeseung was sitting with his usual friends. park jongseong was the first one to see you and immediately knew that something was up.
“why is ___ literally dashing towards us?” he uncertainly asked.
“huh?” heeseung confusedly turned around in his seat and caught sight of your hurried figure. “oh, i think something’s wrong then.”
“yeah, she usually never approaches us.” sunghoon added.
“except for that one time she smacked heeseung across the head because he forgot to pick her up in the morning.” jay quietly snickered, earning a side eye from the boy in question.
“that appended once—“
but your distressed figure sliding in the seat next to jake’s immediately interrupted their playful banter.
“hee—“ you then stopped yourself and acknowledged the boys seated at the table. “oh, right. hi! sorry, guys. i’ll be super quick.”
“what did you do this time?” heeseung rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, although everybody at the table perfectly knew he had a soft spot for you and always acted like your real brother.
“shut up! this is serious! i’m screwed, my reputation is at stake here! i’m going to fail and they’re going to tell her and she’ll personally come back from paris or london or whatever city she’s in just to look me dead in the eyes and tell me, ‘you are a fucking idiot’. i’m screwed, seung!” you dramatically started to ramble, heeseung and his best friends just weirdly staring at you, but with a hint of amusement in their eyes.
you, jay, jake and sunghoon could be considered acquaintances, you would briefly talk on sporadic occasions like that one. they also knew you because of the podcast and your reputation on campus. the two things were actually quite connected together. people would see you as this straightforward, strong, intimidating girl who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. and not only during the school’s podcast.
“slow down, tiger. what the hell are you talking about?”
“so, you know that i’m the new president of the podcast until yeji comes back.. right?” you narrowed your eyes at him, to which he vigorously nodded his head.
“good. well, now we fall short of one speaker. and i might have been the one in charge of finding another one. during summer break. but i completely forgot. and now the meeting for the podcast is in two days and i absolutely have no one in mind!” you hopelessly banged your head on the table’s surface.
heeseung reached forward and softly patted your head, making you groan in frustration.
“don’t show affection, i’ll feel worse.” you swatted his hand away, making him scoff.
“why don’t you just ask someone random? like the first person you see in the hallway or in your class that looks even vaguely capable?” suggested jay.
“that’s exactly the last thing i want to do.” you deadpanned.
“yeah, that’s not going to work. she’s too much of a perfectionist to just settle for that.” your friend explained.
“i wanted to find someone who could fit for the task properly, i don’t want just anybody. but now i don’t have enough time and i really have to listen to jongseong’s terrible advice.”
the last part made his friends laugh amused, even jake cracked a little smile and it didn’t pass unnoticed by anybody at the table. not even you. of course you knew sim jaeyun. and of course you had heard the voices that circulated about him.
“jongseong? not even ‘jay’? wow, you must really hate me.” jay scoffed in disbelief.
“well, does it make any difference? we’re barely acquaintances anyways.” you reasoned.
“fair enough.” he mumbled, you were right after all.
“so, why are you telling us this?” heeseung butted in.
“because you know a lot of people. and maybe among these many people you know someone who can be a decent enough speaker?” you explained, slowly darting your eyes to each one of them with a hopeful and persuasive expression on your face.
“sorry, i only know figure skaters, but they won’t have free time to record it.” sunghoon was the first one to turn you down, followed by the others.
only jake still hadn’t answered you, so you slowly turned to him with an overexaggerated sweet smile on your face, making him grimace.
“ah, don’t look at me. i don’t know anyone who could help you.” he shook his head, making you groan in defeat.
“wait.. why don’t you do it?” your friend suddenly proposed, looking directly at the boy seated next to you.
“no way, man. are you crazy?” he immediately refused, pure terror written on his features.
“why not? you have a lot of free time now, trying something new could do you good.” jay tried to reason too, but the sim boy seemed hard to convince.
“that’s not a good idea—“
“don’t worry, i’ll manage to find someone. thanks anyways.” you sent them a quick and tight-lipped smile as you stood up. that was clearly turning into a personal conversation and you thought it felt wrong to listen to it.
as soon as you were out of earshot, the boys swiftly turned towards jake with pointed expressions.
“what?” he exclaimed, exasperated.
“i was serious, jake.” started jay. “why don’t you give it a shot?”
“and talk about what? seriously, i’m not in the right mental space to commit to something like that.”
“that’s exactly the reason why you should do it!” sunghoon exclaimed, almost fed up by his friend’s stubbornness.
“also, i think ___’s influence could do you good. i’m positive she would be able to really challenge you and maybe bring out something that’s stuck deep inside of you.” heeseung honestly added.
“something like what?” jake furrowed his eyebrows, not fully understanding what his friend was hinting at.
“passion, determination, purpose.”
“and maybe the old you.” whispered jay, but not low enough.
“the old me is dead. live with it.” jake suddenly snapped, standing up.
his friends let out heavy breaths as they silently watched him quickly maneuver his way out of the cafeteria.
on the opposite side of the room, you had sat down back with your friends and explained your failed attempt to the guys. by chance, you had looked around and caught the exact moment in which jake lost his temper and decided to flee from whatever conversation he was having with the others. you had never admitted it to anybody, not even yourself, but there was something about jake’s situation that made you unable to overlook it.
you weren’t one to meddle in other people’s business and you couldn’t stand gossip. but when it came to jake sim, something seemed to pull at your heartstrings every single time. maybe it was because you would see the pain and worry hidden behind heeseung’s eyes every time he would briefly mention him in a conversation. or maybe it was because, even if you didn’t personally know jake and had never had a proper conversation with him, you still had witnessed his radical change in personality, just like everyone else.
────
JAKE DIDN’T ATTEND ANY LESSONS FOR THE REST OF THE DAY.
his mind was too busy relentlessly replaying the conversation had during lunch break. he started pondering over that suggestion, thinking if he could really fit for the role and if it could really help him. it’s not that he didn’t want to change, to go back to his old ways, to feel alive again. it’s just that he was scared. in the past months, he had kind of found comfort in his pain and he had learnt to live in his own misery. thinking about change and going out of his comfort zone immediately caused the now all too familiar feeling of uneasiness to take control over him.
he was now quietly sitting on the bleachers of the football field, the place that held so many memories, the place where he had always felt fearless, invincible, free. where he had just always felt himself. it was still his safe space. as hard as it was to admit it, he regretted quitting the team every single day, but at the same time he still couldn’t find enough strength in himself to go back to it, to his biggest passion. so he would go there when he needed time alone to think or to simply relish the calmness of the usually not so quiet place while everyone else was having lessons.
suddenly, his eyes caught sight of a figure running laps in the football field, making him furrow his eyebrows. but his expression quickly morphed into one of surprise upon recognizing your face.
why were you running laps? were you skipping your lessons, too? were you perhaps trying to escape reality like he was doing?
your eyes met for a split second, in which he noticed a flash of recognition in your gaze, too. then you kept going and he kept sitting there, deep in his thoughts once again.
the next time you saw each other was that same evening, at the convenience store near the dorms. you were already patiently waiting for your turn at the cash register when he got in line right behind you. then you turned around and accidentally made eye contact with him.
“oh, hi.” you awkwardly greeted him.
“hello.” he greeted back, equally uncomfortable.
it was just a bit weird seeing each other for the third time that day, but not being close at all. especially because you would usually never cross paths, let alone multiple times in less than 24 hours. that was really unusual.
when it was finally your turn to pay, you discovered that you had stupidly forgotten your wallet at the dorm, and you started to mentally curs yourself for the embarrassment you were enduring. but before you could dig the deepest hole on the ground, right there in front of everyone, and disappear from the face of the earth, a sudden voice coming from your left brought you back to reality.
“it’s okay, add my stuff as well. i’ll pay for the both of us.” he told the cashier, swiftly standing right next to you to divide the items into two plastic bags.
“what? wait, you don’t have to—“ you tried to protest, but to no use.
“it’s really not a big deal, ___.” he quickly gazed at you and shrugged his shoulders unbothered while paying.
once outside, you kept thanking him and asking him how you could repay him, but he only kept dismissing all your attempts.
“i saw you today, at the field.” he decided to change the subject instead.
“yeah, i saw you too.” you replied a bit hesitantly, not sure why he was bringing that up.
“do you run often?”
“do you sit there often?” you fired back. he was clearly taken aback by that defensive answer.
“only when i need to be alone with my thoughts.” he honestly answered, surprising you.
“well, it’s the opposite for me. i try to run away from them.” you had no idea how you had ended up opening up to an almost stranger, it must have been the time, but nevertheless it almost felt right, the initial awkwardness now a distant memory.
“still worried for the podcast?” he asked, seeming genuinely interested.
“yeah.” you let out a heavy sight. “i can’t believe i forgot the most important thing.” you started rumbling mostly to yourself.
“what if i really joined it?” his mouth spoke quicker than his mind could process it, startling not only you, but himself as well.
“what? why? are you saying this just out of pity? weren’t you completely against the idea of it just this morning?” you furrowed your eyebrows, something seemed off to you.
“i don’t know, i was really thinking about it today. maybe my friends are right.” he shrugged. “you’re not convinced.” he stated right after seeing your doubtful expression.
“would you even be truly interested in it?” you pried further with a slight tone of skepticism.
“why not? could be fun. but i clearly see you don’t want me to do it.” he crossed his arms, almost as if he was trying to challenge you.
and he was starting to piss you off.
“change my mind then.” you mocked his gesture, raising an eyebrow without even trying to hide your growing annoyance.
“i regularly listen to the podcast. and i have a lot of free time since i’m not on the football team anymore.” he confidently replied.
“how long have you been listening to the podcast?” you fired back once again, it really was beginning to sound like an interrogation and he couldn’t help but feel amused by your seriousness.
you clearly weren’t playing.
but that specific question suddenly made jake remember a not so little detail, hence why you were able to notice a faint change in his expression, a glimpse of something deeper, painful maybe.
“since my.. uh.. ex-girlfriend introduced me to it. so for almost two years now.” at the mere mention of the girl, he quickly averted his gaze to the ground, feeling oddly exposed.
it’s like he could already hear all the whispered gossip about his breakup over and over again. and he couldn’t stand it anymore. for a moment there, he thought he was going to hear them again, but from you.
“that’s even more than me, i only joined this year.” you muttered, hating the idea that he might be right.
you didn’t even acknowledge the first part of the reply and you knew for a fact that he was grateful for that. sure, he was starting to get on your nerves with that challenging and almost mocking attitude, and you could have easily let out one of your harsh comebacks. at the end of the day, that’s what people knew you for. you were the girl with the sharp tongue, the one people should be wary of and careful not to get on her bad side. but you weren’t heartless and you had empathy, something that all those people clearly lacked, since they would easily talk about other people’s business like they were discussing the weather, even the most private and delicate matters.
“and since then you’ve always been my favorite, you know?” he added, a smug look on his face as soon as he realized he might be winning that improvised debate.
“are you trying to get into my good graces?” you scoffed, raising an eyebrow.
“what? no, i’m serious.” he immediately denied, looking almost offended. “i’ve always liked how straightforward you are and i admire the way you word things. like, it’s so clear and captivating, it always makes me want to listen so attentively to anything you say.”
since when was he so straightforward and honest?
“oh.” you murmured, trying to hide your flustered self, but it was all in vain, jake had already noticed it and thankfully decided not to comment on it.
“well..” you cleared your throat before continuing. “thank you, jake. it seems you have a good way with words, too.” you painfully let out.
he was so winning.
“so, did i change your mind?” he teased, slightly leaning in, waiting for an answer. you scoffed, rolling your eyes and poking a finger at his chest.
“maybe.” you lightly pushed him away. “i’ll let you know. and if i don’t, then it means i didn’t choose you. now, good night.”
you were already a few steps ahead, when his voice suddenly caused you to stop in your tracks.
“wait! you don’t have my number.” he pondered out loud.
“don’t need to. i’ll find you.”
those were the last words you spoke to him and the ones he somehow kept replaying in his head for the rest of the night.
────
YOU FOUND HIM AGAIN BY THE FOOTBALL FIELD A FEW DAYS LATER.
he was surprised to see you approaching him, to be honest, he had quickly given up on you, thinking you were just messing with him and wouldn’t really choose him.
well, he was wrong.
you sat yourself down next to him on the metal bench and looked at him straight in the eyes. that fierce eye contact made him shiver.
“congratulations, jake. you are officially part of the podcast.” you monotonously let him know.
“are you serious?” he widened his eyes.
“i’m not repeating myself.” you narrowed your eyes at him, making him scoff.
“well, thank you.” he genuinely smiled at you.
it was probably the first time in a long time seeing him smile like that again and your breath almost got stuck in your throat. he looked so different while doing so, he looked even better, more handsome.
wait, what the hell were you even saying?
“___? are you okay?” jake hesitantly waved a hand in front of your eyes, bringing you back to reality.
“oh.. yeah. uhm.. anyways.” you cleared your throat, flustered by the fact that you were staring at him while lost in your thoughts. “i need your schedule, so that i can adapt it with the ones of everyone else’s and make a plan for this year’s meetings and recordings.” you started explaining.
“sure. if you give me your number, i’ll send it to you. it’s easier that way.” he proposed.
you scoffed and narrowed your eyes at him.
“nice try. but as i’ve told you before, i’ll find you. just be ready with a copy of it.”
as you bid goodbye, and then throughout the rest of the day, you somehow couldn’t help but replay jake’s sweet and genuine smile over and over again.
he looked so warm, so like himself. his old self.
────
THE FIRST MEETING OF THE SCHOOL’S PODCAST HAD JUST ENDED.
you had introduced jake to all the members and explained to him all he needed to know. then you started to brainstorm a few ideas for some episodes and you had to admit, the ideas that he came up with were not so bad.
throughout the meeting, you found yourself paying a little extra attention to jake. you just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable in the new environment. by observing him, you noticed how he was very serious and collected while attentively listening to everything that was being said. it almost looked like he was absorbing every single information. but you had no idea if he was enjoying it so far. that’s why you decided to stop him while everyone else was leaving.
“so, what do you think?”
“i like it so far, it seems very interesting.” he drily replied.
that was another thing you clearly noticed that day. he looked like he was avoiding you, which was weird, because you weren’t even friends. so that’s why you tried not to look too much into his behavior, assuming you were probably just overthinking and overanalyzing trivial details. but the answer he just gave you, with that cold tone and without even looking you in the eyes, made you instantly reconsider everything.
“good.” you nodded, stoically, matching his tone and energy.
“good.” he nodded back. “then i’m off. see you next time.” he murmured and left the room in no time.
“yeah.. see you.” you muttered to yourself.
the two of you didn’t speak again until the first day of recordings and the worst thing was that you had to sit next to each other and discuss different topics together. the moment you sat down, you could already sense the awkwardness seeping from the both of you. you couldn’t even look at each other, or better, jake couldn’t. of course the other members noticed the uncomfortable aura between you two and tried to ease the tension as best as they could. but jake simply looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there and you were getting more pissed off by the second.
“okay, uhm. i’ll turn on the camera on the count of three, the mics are already on, so let’s just start with ___’s intro and then jake’s small presentation. okay?” stated one of the guys.
unfortunately, since the first second, everybody in the room could sense and see with their own eyes how stiff you both looked. which was painful to watch. and you were well aware of it. jake looked bored and sounded monotonous, he was mumbling and just wasn’t saying anything relevant or slightly interesting. you tried to avoid it at first, pretending everything was going just fine. but that didn’t last for long and your patience ran thin in a very short amount of time.
“okay, that’s enough.” you suddenly snapped. “i’m sorry, guys. let’s take a five minute break, okay?” you sent them a tight lipped smile.
“jake, can we talk outside for a second?” you then coldly directed your attention at him, to which he merely nodded at you, but still followed you in the hallway.
“okay, listen up.” you pointed a finger at him, slowly getting closer and closer while he tried to step back. “i don’t know what your problem is and i don’t even care. the only thing i’m asking you is to get your shit together and act like a responsible person. you are the one who fucking volunteered for this, so act like you want to do it or just leave. you’re wasting all these people’s time, people who are just as busy with college and personal life as you are.”
you were so caught up in your anger that you didn’t notice you had now cornered him against the wall, while he was just embarrassingly staring at you. he was of course ashamed of his behavior, everything you told him was right, but he was especially flustered by your close proximity. the way you were so fiercely putting him into place, standing up for the work of the podcast’s members on behalf of their president, was just madly attractive. but he would never admit that out loud.
you too realized how close you two had gotten and swiftly took a step back while awkwardly coughing.
“seriously, i don’t know what’s going on with you. but if you’re going through a hard time, that’s not an excuse to act like this.” your voice softened a little, but your gaze remained sharp. “can i ask you something?” you then let out after a long sight.
he only nodded in reply.
“why did you decide to join?”
maybe it was your straightforwardness, or the way you softened when hinting at his possible personal problems. maybe it was the fact that even if you were mad, you still weren’t yelling at him, degrading him and making him feel like a walking soulless failure. maybe it was the fact that in that moment, he noticed something deeper in you that people normally wouldn’t see, because they would never get this close to you. maybe it was a combination of all these things that made his walls partially crumble.
“that day at lunch, after you left our table, the boys tried to convince me to join this. they think it could be good for me, that doing something new might help me. they want the old me back. hell, i want the old me back. but i don’t know how to do it. and i guess that your personality moved something in me, from the few times we spoke together. and that scared me, so i started acting like an asshole. i’m really sorry, ___. thank you for opening my eyes.”
you surely weren’t expecting all this honesty, that’s why it took you a moment to register everything he had said. but when you did, everything started to make more sense. you didn’t regret your angry approach, but you surely had discovered a new side of him. and you maybe were starting to reconsider him as a person.
“i understand.” you slowly nodded, but what he noticed was the almost subtle change in your eyes, a softer gaze now replacing the fierce one from before. “so, do you still want to give it a try?” you questioned with a hint of challenge in your voice, which made him slightly turn the corners of his mouth upwards.
“let’s do this.” he nodded determinedly and followed you back inside.
after deeply apologizing to everyone, jake sat down next to you again, a more relaxed expression on both of your faces. and so the first episode of the podcast was successfully recorded and that day, the both of you left campus with a new understanding of each other.
────
TIME REALLY DOES FLY SOMETIMES.
because a month had already passed and you and jake were skillfully recording episode after episode. that experience involuntarily brought you closer, making you two discover one another on a deeper level, until you ended up being friends. so now jake’s lunch table and yours became a single one, your respective friends getting along surprisingly well.
and so that’s why you were at sunghoon’s house, on a friday night, celebrating his and ni-ki’s birthdays. when the two guys found out they were born only one day from one another, they immediately planned to celebrate their birthdays together. and they kept their word.
you’ve never been a big party lover, that’s why, at one point in the night, you decided to take a break from the loud music, cheers and laughter and wandered off in search of a quieter place to stay at for a little while. however, your plan turned out to be harder than you had predicted, since sunghoon’s house was massive, and ended up standing in the back garden. but you weren’t alone. in front of you, standing by the pool, there was jake. he was speaking on the phone and by the looks of it, it really seemed like he was arguing with someone. since you didn’t want to eavesdrop and violate his privacy, you were going to turn around and leave him alone, but one particularly strained bit of the conversation caught your attention.
“leave me alone, haneul. it’s been almost a year and only now you decide to apologize and explain why you fucking cheated on me? why now, huh? why now when i’m finally happier? why now that i’m finally getting over you?”
his voice was loud, but incredibly weak and tired. arguing with her was the last thing that he expected to be doing that night and to be completely honest, he was fighting the urge to just hang up in her face. but deep down, he was well aware that a part of him would have still felt guilty. you took it as your queue to leave, it didn’t feel right with you to overhear such a personal conversation.
as your new quiet destination, you opted for the kitchen, which to your luck was completely empty. you grabbed a bottle of beer and sat on the counter, your feet dangling while you looked around. after only a couple of minutes, you saw jake’s figure approaching you, a small smile on his face as soon as you caught his eyes. but behind that apparent tranquillity, you were able to pick up the uneasiness from the recent phone call.
“found you! what are you doing here all alone?” he came to your side, propping his elbow on the counter, close to your exposed tight, and staring up at you. your breath got almost caught in your throat and you mentally cursed yourself for finding that simple gesture so attractive.
what was going with you lately?
“just needed a quieter place to recharge, you know?” you shrugged your shoulders, without breaking the eye contact.
“i saw you before, in the back garden.” he suddenly revealed, making you widen your eyes and turn a dark shade of red.
“don’t worry.” he quickly added with a light laugh. “you didn’t interrupt anything important.” he reassured you.
“i overheard just a little bit of your conversation, then i immediately left. i’m sorry.” you looked everywhere but at him, flustered.
“don’t apologize.” he murmured. he then delicately brought his hand up to your chin, in order to make your head turn to look at him. you just stopped there for a little while, simply admiring one another, almost as if you were trying to memorize as many details of each other’s features as possible.
“are you okay?” you eventually found the courage to whisper, pure concern etched on your face.
and that incredibly warmed jake’s heart. seeing you caring for him and asking how he was doing made his heart beat way faster than it was supposed to. it wasn’t often that someone would stop and ask him if he was doing okay. most of the time, even his family and friends would just look at him sympathetically and avoid the topic as much as possible, knowing he wouldn’t answer them even if they tried. but with you, it was completely different. there was something about you that made him question everything. that was your power. your fierceness, your way of thinking and formulating your thoughts, your challenging nature. all these things pushed him, threw him off guard at times and made him look up to you. and also look forward to the podcast’s recordings.
he still remembers his friends’ words that day during lunch: “i think ___’s influence could do you good. i’m positive she would be able to really challenge you and maybe bring out something that’s stuck deep inside of you. passion, determination, purpose.” heeseung had said. “and maybe the old you.” jay had also added.
the old him. to be honest, it would be impossible to go back to the old him, because that would imply going back to his old life. however, he was starting to embrace a new version of himself, a version that combined his old traits and his new ones. the essence of who he was was slowly coming back, but it was accompanied by the hurt he was still healing from.
“jake? are you there?” you waved a hand in front of his face, bringing him back from his thoughts.
“sorry, got lost in my head for a moment.” he sheepishly smiled up at you.
“what were you thinking so intensely about?” you softly giggled.
oh, what an angelic sound. he truly could listen to it nonstop for the rest of his life.
“do you think i’m on the right path to finding myself again?” he honestly asked, making you smile fondly.
“well, would you have asked anyone this question a few months ago?” you asked back.
“i see your point.” he nodded happily. “then, i have to thank you.” he stated seriously.
“me? why?” you furrowed your eyebrows, that was new.
“thanks to you i feel like i have a purpose again and like i’m actually doing something useful, productive. i’m not just existing and letting the days go by while i’m stuck in my head with my bad memories. i finally have something to look forward to. and someone.”
you were speechless, to say the least. a whirlwind of emotions was making its way inside you, leaving you almost out of breath. seeing him being so vulnerable in front of your eyes, thanking you for something so important, something that you didn’t even realize you were doing, it was just a lot to comprehend.
“yun, i don’t even know what to say.” you breathlessly let out. “i didn’t even know i was helping you this much, but i’m glad i unconsciously did. you deserve to be happy again.” you genuinely smiled, every word coming out of your mouth enhancing his sudden desire to just smash his lips on yours.
you tentatively reach for his face, brushing a loose strand of his hair out of his eyes and then cupping his cheek to softly brush your thumb on his soft skin. jake’s complexion turned a faint pink, but he didn’t care. not if it was in front of you.
“yun?” he softly smiled, his heart beating rapidly upon hearing the new nickname.
“oh, i’m sorry—“
“no.” he shook his head. “i love it.”
“i’m glad you found me.” he added right after, closing his eyes to bask in the softness of your touch.
“and i’m glad i found you.”
────
BEING AWOKEN BY YOUR PHONE BUZZING AT TWO IN THE MORNING HADN’T CLEARLY BEEN ON YOUR AGENDA.
looking at the display, you read sunghoon’s name and confusedly furrowed your eyebrows. why was he calling you in the middle of the night?
“sunghoon? what’s wrong?” you groggily answered the phone.
“hi, ___. i’m so sorry to call you at this hour, but there’s a kind of.. situation.” you could sense the nervousness in his tone and you could also hear muffled sounds and hushed voices in the background.
“did something happen?”
“yeah.. uhm, it’s jake.” at the mention of the boy’s name, your heart skipped a beat. “we are at a party and jake might have drunk a little too much after he talked— no, i should let him explain it to you. the point is, he fought a random guy and now that he’s more sober, he’s kinda.. struggling?”
you were so confused, especially because he wasn’t talking directly and was clearly hiding something from you.
“hoon, i hate when you talk in circles. is he hurt? are you trying to ask me to come to you?” you went straight to the point, making the guy let out a breath of relief.
“yes, please. he’s not that hurt, just a few scratches. it’s just that.. he’s very emotional at the moment and we don’t really know what to do. nothing seems to help.” he admitted.
“and why do you think i could help instead?” you raised a brow.
“because it’s you.”
“ass-kisser.” you playfully scoffed. “text me the address, i’ll be there as soon as i can.”
entering what you assumed was a frat boy’s house with a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie surely caught people’s attention.
thankfully, you didn’t have to look around the massive house in search of any of your friends, because heeseung and jay were already approaching you.
“thank you so much for coming, ___-ie. we really don’t know what to do.” heeseung sounded almost desperate.
“what even happened?” you asked, confusion and concern etched onto your features.
“haneul approached him as soon as he arrived here. they badly argued and then he just started drinking nonstop. after a mere hour, he was already shitfaced and picked up a fight with a random dude who just accidentally knocked into him. but don’t worry, it was just a couple punches and it was all over.” he started to explain. “and now that the effect of the alcohol is almost completely gone, he’s just elaborating on everything that happened, mainly the conversation with haneul i assume, and he’s been crying and on edge for the past hour. we don’t know how to calm him down.” finished jay.
they led you upstairs and into one of the guest rooms. and there he was, sitting at the edge of the bed with his fingers almost painfully tugging at his hair. he was mumbling incoherent words as sunghoon was standing in front of him, trying to reassure him. as soon as your steps became audible, both of their gazes snapped in your direction, making you almost jump. at the sight of your small, reassuring smile, jake’s eyes automatically welled up with tears.
“why did you call her?” he let out in a broken sob, covering his face shamefully.
“thanks for coming, ___. we’ll be outside in the hallway if you need us.” sunghoon swiftly approached you, not before giving jake an affectionate pat on the shoulder. you nodded and slowly approached the broken guy, sitting close next to him.
“jake, it’s okay. don’t hide from me, i’m never going to judge you.” you softly called out, resting a hand on his back and slowly patting it in circles.
“i’m sorry you have to see me like this. and i’m sorry you had to come here in the middle of the night. were you sleeping?” he mumbled in his hands.
“nothing to be sorry about, of course i would come for you.” you softly smiled, your words finally making him look up at you. seeing his red and puffy eyes clench your heart, you couldn’t stand the idea of him suffering. you subconsciously reached for his face, drying his tears with your thumb and making jake flustered. you only smiled endearingly at his rosy cheeks.
“are you hurt?” you then asked, delicately angling his face more towards you to look for any possible wounds. you took his hands next to do the same and let out a sight of relief when you didn’t find anything. but when you were about to loosen the grip on his hand, jake tightened it and began to softly caress your knuckles with his thumb. you properly looked at him, at his features, at the pain and sorrow hidden behind his expression, but that somehow you were always able to effortlessly notice it.
“do you want to talk about it?” you whispered, afraid you were maybe crossing a line, or moving too fast.
realization hit him, they had told you. he heavily sighted, but decided it was time to finally open up and tell you the whole story from the beginning. he trusted you, he deeply cared for you, he considered you important. there weren’t any more reasons to keep denying it to himself.
“i’ll have to start from the very beginning, though.” he murmured, squeezing your hand as if to seek comfort.
“and i’m here to listen to everything you want to confide in me.” you squeezed his hand back.
and so he did.
he told you how him and haneul met and got together, he explained the toxic situation between her and her ex-boyfriend and he painfully described how he caught the two making out in an empty hallway on campus. he then delved into the details of his former relationship, describing how it wasn’t as perfect as it looked from the outside. he opened up about haneul’s toxic behavior, how she would love bomb him when she was in a good mood, and then yell the worst and most degrading things at him when she wouldn’t feel well. she also often compared him to her ex, or to any other popular guy.
“i was so exhausted. i knew it was toxic and i knew i had to leave her. but i just couldn’t. i mean, i was in love with her, we dated for more than a year and she started acting like that only in the last few months, when she started to go back to her ex. every time she would hurt me, i would tell myself that it was going to be the last time, that i was finally breaking up with her. but then i would recall all of our good memories, all the times she had been a good girlfriend. plus, she would apologize every time and, i don’t know, she sounded so genuine, like her old self. i couldn’t find it in me to break it off. i feel so stupid, i should have been stronger—“
“don’t ever say it again. it’s not your fault.” you immediately cut him off, maybe a bit too harshly, making him look down on the floor. “no, hey, look at me.” you quickly softened your tone. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to sound mean. i just can’t stand seeing you like this and on top of it all, blaming yourself for something that someone else did to you. please, believe me when i tell you that it’s not your fault.”
you didn’t even realize you had started crying until you felt jake’s thumb softly caress your cheeks and dry your tears, just like you had previously done to him. but then, he let his desire and amplified emotions get the best of him, and he found himself slowly inching closer and closer to your face, his gaze dangerously dropping down to your lips. he couldn’t do it anymore, he couldn’t stand the tension between the two of you anymore. he was far gone, completely whipped for you. in his eyes, you were just perfect, you always knew what to say, you could understand him perfectly and you truly, genuinely cared about him. whether it was through words or gestures, you had let him know how important you considered him, probably even without fully realizing it.
your breath itched upon realizing what he was trying to do. you would be lying if you stated that you didn’t want to kiss him. your feelings weren’t completely clear to you yet, but you couldn’t deny the tension between you two anymore. however, on the other hand, your common sense also butted in. was it the right time to kiss each other? when he was so vulnerable and still upset? you didn’t want to take advantage of him and risk him regretting it later on.
“yun, i don’t think right now it’s the right time.” you found the strength to whisper, your hot breath fanning over his lips.
“are you rejecting me?” he murmured, resting his forehead on yours and closing his eyes, afraid of the possible answer.
“no.. i just don’t want to take advantage of your vulnerable state. you’re not thinking completely straight and you’re still shaken up by everything that happened.” you tenderly explained, cupping his cheek with one hand.
“but, will we talk about this?” he hopefully questioned, opening his puppy eyes again and almost melting you on the spot.
“of course, whenever you want. just, not right now. okay?” you smiled, making him vigorously nod.
“thank you, you found me this time too.” he whispered.
“i’ll always find you, yun.”
────
EXAMS WERE APPROACHING.
you could sense it from the extreme nervousness running through your whole body. you, jungwon and heeseung decided to meet up at a café to try and get more work done, but you knew your plans wouldn’t last long as soon as you saw the two guys looking knowingly at each other and then directly at you. you huffed an annoyed breath, mimicking crossing your arms.
“spit it out.” you impatiently demanded, causing a wide, sly smile to form on their lips.
“what’s the deal with jake?” heeseung went straight to the point.
“there’s no deal. we’re friends, you know that.” you scoffed.
“close friends.” jungwon suggestively raised his eyebrows.
“just say whatever bullshit you two have in mind.” you huffed once again, making him pout.
“it’s not bullshit! we’re serious, he told us what happened that night. why haven’t you discussed it yet?” he pried.
“i don’t think that would be a good idea.” you avoided their eyes, looking down on your notes.
“why do you say that?” heeseung softly asked.
“you know why.”
“he’s over her, you know it too.” jungwon pointed out.
“yeah, but he still hasn’t completely healed, yet. and he trusts me, he completely opened up to me. hell, he told me everything, every little detail. i can’t find it in myself to disrupt his newfound balance, even if he feels the same way about me.”
“i think you should go for it anyway. trust me, you won’t ruin anything. on the contrary, you’ll only do him good.”
“huh? what are you trying to say?” you furrowed your forehead, feigning cluelessness, when in reality you had probably a vague idea of what they were referring to.
heeseung knew that and rolled his eyes at you, but decided to still please you and tell you directly. “we shouldn’t tell you this, but he keeps talking about you and about what happened that night. he nonstop keeps sulking because you still haven’t talked it out and he badly wants to, but he’s afraid you’ll reject him and he prefers to wait for you to give him the okay to talk. but he’s ready, ___. he’s been ready for quite a while now. so piss off and go talk to him.” he sternly commanded.
“what? now? that’s a bit—“
well, they managed to convince you. and now there you were, seated at the bleachers by the football court, watching jake train with his former team. when you texted jake to meet up, the last thing you expected to read was the text he sent you: “i’m about to start practice, but you can come and watch me. we’ll talk afterwards.”
since when was he on the football team again? why didn’t he tell you? was he going to quit the podcast?
so many questions started to invade your mind, typical of you and your overthinking. and you were so deep in your concerns that you didn’t even notice jake approaching you, already showered and changed.
“hey, there! what got you so deep in your thoughts?” he softly giggled, making your heart melt for a short instant. but then you remembered the whole reason why you were so out of it in the first place.
“are you back in the team?” was the first thing you asked.
“kind of. since coach is still very pissed at me for leaving in the first place, he’s making me practice again, but i won’t be able to actually play and be officially back until next season.” he calmly explained.
“wow, i didn’t know you were considering it. wait, but does that mean you’re going to quit the podcast? i mean, you’ll be busier and you have to also think about your exams. i don’t want to burden you with the podcast, so if you feel like quitting, then i’m going to respect-“ you nervously started to rumble, agitating your hands in the air for more emphasis.
in that moment, jake found you incredibly adorable, and the urge to shut you up with a kiss became almost unbearable.
“hey, hey! slow down, tiger!” he genuinely laughed, ruffling your hair and sitting right next to you. “i’m not quitting, don’t worry. i still have enough time to do everything, don’t worry.”
“are you sure? i swear, i’m not going to be upset if you want to quit.” you insisted, concern etched onto your features.
“i’m 100% sure. now, what did you want to talk about?” he curiously asked, unconsciously leaning over towards you.
“uhm.. well—shit, how can i say it..” you started to nervously ramble to yourself, making jake suspiciously raise an eyebrow.
“what got you so stressed out you can’t even say it out loud? it’s unlike you to struggle being straightforward.” he pointed out, a knowing smirk fighting to form on his face; he knew what you were most definitely trying to confess.
but he was right. you were known for never being afraid to say what you truly thought, so were you really going to let emotions get in the way of your usual confidence?
of course not.
“you know, you’re right. i’m going to be straightforward, like always. but.. promise not to run away!” you quickly pleaded, softly clutching his arm.
at the sudden touch, jake felt a jolt of electricity go through him and had to try his best not to let it shine through.
“i promise, ___-ie.”
you took a deep breath, looked at him straight in the eyes and finally let out the words that you were dreading so much.
“jake, i have feelings for you. please, don’t run away.” you immediately let go of his arm and cast your gaze to the floor, too flustered and scared to keep eye contact.
on the other hand, jake was grinning like an idiot.
“and why do you think i would run away?”
“because you’re feeling so much better and you finally found a balance in your life and i don’t want my feelings to scare you away or make you uncomfortable. i mean, i know we were about to kiss and everything, but you weren’t in the right state of mind. so i started overthinking, like always, and convinced myself that you had regretted it or you didn’t feel ready. but then today i was studying with heeseung and jungwon and they convinced me to talk to you—“ “___” “and they were like hinting at you reciprocating my feelings and wanting to talk about it, but honestly, i’m still hesitant—“ “___, hey!” “i don’t want to ruin thing between us and i don’t want to rush you into anything. i mean, i know you’re finally healing and feeling so much better, i don’t want to cause any damage—“
not finding any other way to make you stop cutely rambling, he opted for the thing he’s been dreading the most in the past few weeks: he smashed his lips on yours, finally being able to shut you up. the kiss was slow, sweet and a bit uncertain. it was filled with unspoken feelings, deep understanding and affection.
“you weren’t kidding when you said you tend to heavily ramble when you get nervous.” he was the first to break the silence, teasingly smirking at you. “but i love it.”
“yeah?” you breathlessly let out, looking at him still in a daze. you were still trying to process everything.
“yeah.” he happily giggled, planting a quick kiss on your cheek, only making you more flustered. “___, i like you so, so, so much. you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, i’m dead serious. you literally saved me and i’ll forever be grateful for it. but i feel ready, you don’t have to worry about anything. you’ve taken care of me for all these months, now i feel like it’s time i reciprocate it and start taking care of you. but as your boyfriend, if you’ll let me.”
“are you asking me out, sim?” you teased.
“only if you say yes.”
and then he suddenly retrieved two tickets from his pocket, but they weren’t simple tickets. they were concert tickets for your favorite artist.
“jake! you didn’t!” you gasped, looking repeatedly at him and the tickets in his hands with wide eyes.
“i did.” he vigorously nodded. “i remember you talking about it in one of our first podcast’s episodes. i actually bought them a few weeks ago, i was planning to confess my feelings and ask you out, but i couldn’t find the right moment and then you anticipated me.” he sheepishly scratched the back of his head.
“you are absolutely crazy, yun. thank you so much.” you quickly pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace.
“i’ll take it as a yes, then?” he giggled in your ear.
“of course, yun!”
“i’m glad we found each other, i wouldn’t imagine all of this with anybody else.” he softly whispered, caressing your head with one hand.
“me too. i’ll always find you, yun. that’s a promise.”
────
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© 2024 all rights reserved to user whjluv
My Journey to Escape the War in Gaza
My name is Abdelmajed. I never imagined I’d be sharing my story like this, but life in Gaza has become unbearable. I am a survivor of the war here, and in the blink of an eye, everything I once knew—my home, my safety, my community—was ripped away from me.
The war has transformed Gaza into a graveyard of broken dreams. The buildings that once stood as symbols of life and resilience are now piles of rubble. Every corner is filled with the echoes of explosions. Every moment is shrouded in uncertainty. There is no security. There is no stability. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.
Basic needs have become luxuries. Food is scarce. Clean water is even scarcer. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced, and there is almost no medical care to be found. Every night, families go to bed hungry, praying they’ll wake up to see another day. The cost of basic necessities has skyrocketed, and it’s become a daily battle just to survive.
I’ve seen things I never thought possible—standing in long lines for a piece of bread, rationing every drop of water, and watching my people suffer in silence. I have lost everything—my home, my safety, my dignity.
Escape from Gaza is my only hope, but it’s almost impossible without financial help. The cost of evacuation is far beyond my means, and without support, I’m trapped in a warzone with no way out.
I’m reaching out to you now, in the hopes that someone, anyone, can help. I am not asking for luxury. I am asking for a chance—just a chance—to live. A chance to escape this never-ending cycle of fear, destruction, and loss. A chance to rebuild my life somewhere safe, where I can begin again, where I can find hope once more.
Any amount you can give will help me get closer to safety. Even the smallest donation will make a difference—it could be the lifeline I need to survive. If you are unable to donate, please share my story. The more people who hear it, the better the chance that I can find the support I desperately need.
Your kindness and support mean the world to me. You’re not just helping me escape a war; you’re giving me a chance to live, to rebuild, to breathe again.
Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring.
Vetted by @gazavetters
caught - reader x ni-ki
warnings : smut, nsfw, aphrodisiac induced, explicit language, etc.
you had just gotten home, it was really too hot outside. your body were sticky with sweat from the walk back and swear,
it was one of the worst feeling ever.
the first thing you did was hop into the shower and let the cool water soothe your overheated skin.
and while drying yourself in the living room, you also emptied your bag onto the table. there's your phone, wallet, make up... until your eyes landed on a small box of chocolates.
your friend had shoved it into your bag earlier, complaining hers was too full.
curious, you snapped a photo and sent it to her.
[you sent a photo]
you: can i try this?
minutes passed but there's no reply, and longer you stared at the box, the more you thought, just one, why not?
so you ate one out, popping it into your mouth without any second thought.
you started to feel... weird, after a while. your cheeks flushed, your breathing grew heavier, and your body suddenly felt restless in a different way.
you had just stepped out of the shower, yet your skin felt hotter than before.
your nipples hardened too, you started pressing your legs together involuntarily. just groaning, tossing and turning against the couch, grasping for relief, while your mind wandered.
you miss your boyfriend.
your tall, gorgeous, dancer boyfriend. the man who had the most perfect face and body, perfect hands, hands that knew every inch of you. hands that could grip your hips as he fuck you from behind, he could wrap it around your throat and make you whimper. his voice, his smile...
"riki..."
"fuck," you exhaled, the towel had already slipped off your body while you were rushing to your bedroom. you sat over a pillow and rolled your hips fast and desperate.
your fingers dug into it as you rocked harder, imagining the way your boyfriend can fill you up, how good he feels inside you. your mind replayed the last time he had you pinned against the wall or bed, fucking you so deep you were actually going dumb and crying. you missed him. you missed his weight pressing you down, his breath against your ear, his cock stretching you open-
and ni-ki's heart had nearly stopped when he heard moans the second he stepped into the house.
his body moved on instinct, long legs carrying him fast towards the bedroom. did something happen? are you okay? what the fuck is going on-
is there someone else with you?
and you were there, so lost in your own pleasure, so caught up in the fantasy, that you didn't hear the door open. you didn't hear the footsteps, nor his belt being unbuckled behind your back.
then a hand suddenly covered your mouth, and pulling your body away from the pillow.
a startled gasp left your lips, you tried to scream. "help-"
"you couldn't wait for me?" ni-ki asked, his breath brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
you scared him too but all he could think right now is his poor baby just got so desperate and had to fuck a pillow.
his lips crashed onto yours before you could even answer, kissing you upside down—just hungry and possessive.
"riki," you moaned, biting your lip. "i need you so bad, baby."
your body arched, your skin burned with need to feel him everywhere. then you sat up, hands trembling as you pulled his zipper down, removing his jeans and boxers fully in one go.
his cock sprang free, thick and aching with precum glistening at the tip.
your mouth just... watered.
and just as you were about to take him into your mouth, ni-ki suddenly shifted, lying down beside you instead.
you didn't even care, you just positioned yourself above him, bringing your knees to either side of his head.
you want to suck him off first but you also needed something either like a friction to keep you from aching.
then you leaned down, wrapping your fingers around his cock before taking him into your mouth. ni-ki groaned, his grip tightening on your ass the moment your tongue swirled around the tip.
then he pulled you down onto his mouth even more.
you just whimpered, struggling to keep up as your pleasure from his tongue made you dizzy, and feral.
you were humping the pillow for too long so now you couldn't last in his face. your walls started clenching, your moans muffled around his cock as you came hard.
ni-ki was there drinking and licking, keeping you right there, making sure he got every drop of your release.
he flipped you onto your back after, his body moved on top of yours, cock already pressed against your entrance, one that was already wet from your mouth.
"please," you whispered, holding on the back of his neck.
"okay," he kissed you, sliding into you so deep, he had both of you moaning at the stretch. "it's so tight," he groaned, burying his face on your neck.
the pace was slow at first, but you needed more so you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper, making him lose it.
his hips snapped into you fast and relentless. his mouth found your tits, sucking hard, leaving marks, moaning against your skin.
every thrust sent sparks through your overstimulated body, leaving you dizzy, and delirious with need. "faster, riki..." you begged.
ni-ki cursed, obeying immediately, fucking into you even harder, and rougher. the sound of skin slapping, moans and breathless gasps, filled the room.
his hands were everywhere gripping your thighs, pinning your wrists above your head, grabbing your face to kiss you deeply between thrusts. you felt like you were burning, like your body couldn't handle this much pleasure at once, but you also needed more and more of his dick.
ni-ki panicked, "fuck, baby- i'm gonna-"
you moaned as his pace turning erratic. "me too... gonna cum."
your back arching as another orgasm crashed over you, your walls were squeezing him so tight he's losing his mind. the feeling sent him spiraling. he groaned loudly, his movements grew sloppy as he came inside you, his hips jerking with every wave of his release.
his body trembled against yours. both of you were gasping for air and grasping at each other like you'd fall apart otherwise.
ni-ki didn't move after he came, he stayed inside you, panting, his forehead pressed against yours, hands gripping on your hips, heart pounding while his entire body still tingling from how insane that was.
"holy shit," he breathed out.
you let out a breathless laugh, brushing your fingers through his damp hair, holding him in your arms. "yeah..."
he swallowed, hands sliding down your sides, still gripping, still needing to feel you. like the thought of stopping, pulling out, and not being inside you will hurt him.
"baby," he murmured, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips. "i still wanna fuck you."
you let out a soft giggle, your body clenched around him told him you wanted it too.
"i don't think you can still move," you whispered, playing with his hair.
ni-ki groaned against your skin, trailing kisses up your neck.
"but that's fine. i'll do all the work now."
"you're perfect," he chuckled in relief.
you can feel him softening, but somehow his dick were still filling you inside perfectly, still pulsing with need despite how wrecked he was.
you smirked, biting your lip as you rolled your hips just a little.
ni-ki whined, his fingers dug into your skin, his head dropping against your shoulder. "fuck, baby, don't-" but you did it again, rocking against him, feeling him twitch back to life inside you.
a soft chuckle left your lips as you kissed his temple. "i thought you wanted to feel me?"
"i do," he groaned, his voice breathless, wrecked. "but i'm so fucking sensitive."
you ran your hands down his back, nails grazing his skin lightly as you slowly lifted your hips before sinking back down. a strangled moan left his throat, his arms wrapping tighter around you.
"oh- shit..."
you grinned, pressing your lips to his ear. "too much?"
ni-ki let out a shaky exhale, his hands trembling as they tried to guide your movements even though his body was too weak to follow through. "no," he rasped. "don't stop."
you took over, moving at your own pace, rolling your hips, feeling him grow hard again inside you. ni-ki became helpless beneath you, making noises and broken whimpers as his body shuddered with every grind of your hips.
you tangled your fingers in his hair, tilting his head up to look at you. his eyes were glassy, blown with pleasure, his lips swollen and parted as he panted, begging for more without saying a word.
he looks so pretty, blushing and fucked out.
his fingers dug into your thighs as his hips weakly tried to meet yours. "you're ruining me."
you smiled, leaning down to kiss him, swallowing every moans as you rode him, doing exactly what he wanted—because after all, he was the one who said he still wanted to fuck.
and you can't even remember what happened after, now you slowly woke up with ni-ki pressing soft kisses to your face, and your body was aching in the best way possible.
he then stood up to get water, running his hands through his hair but his dazed eyes flickered to the small box that had fallen from your bag. he furrowed his brows, his still pleasure-addled brain struggled to process but somehow, he was able to comprehend that the chocolate is laced with aphrodisiac.
"so this is how you were able to keep going?" ni-ki asked holding up the chocolate.
you tilted your head in confusion, he threw the box for you to catch.
"oh my god?" you scoffed in disbelief, "this is why i was so fucking horny..."
ni-ki laughed, unwrapping and munched on one.
"wha- why'd you eat that?"
he walked towards you and cupped your face, pulling you into a messy, chocolate-flavored kiss.
so ready to be ruined even more.
note : it wasn't even their chocolate T_T but anyway, thanks for waiting. this is a very short one, hopefully i can finish the others so i could post it right away <3
マスターリストm.list
taglist 𖤘: @dolliewon @ziiao
anxiety - n.rk
pairing: stranger!nishimura riki x fem!reader
synopsis: you meet him on a quiet night — a stranger with sharp eyes and a colder edge, nothing like anyone in your sleepy suburb. he won’t talk, barely looks at you, but something about him lingers. maybe you’re just curious. or maybe you’ve seen him before.
featuring: ni-ki & jake of enhypen
genre: childhood friends to lovers, a sprinkle of angst, smut, skinship, kissing, etc.
warnings: smut (18+), difficult relationships with parents, love at first sight lowk, vulnerability, themes of implied watching (not rlly stalking) but it isn't graphic, riki smokes cigs, uhhh i think that's it?? lowercase intended heh
playlist: anxiety by doechii, clarity by zedd & sacrifice by enhypen
(smut warnings under cut)
wc: 9.120k
a/n: this is way longer than i expected but it came to me in a dream... enjoy! also i'm gonna start a perm taglist! comment on any of my fics or send an ask to be added! <3
smut content: riki's PACKING, they cum in their pants lol, dry humping, deepthroating kinda, backshots LMAO, missionary, dom!riki x sub!reader, degradation & praise kinks, creampie, like SO MUCH cum... n e ways! fluffy aftercare, unprotected sex (wrap b4 you tap), tit fucking, oral (m. receiving), choking, everything is consensual, riki and reader are both so down bad for each other... lmk if i missed anything :3
(not proofread)
-ˏˋ⋆ 7 months ago ⋆ˊˎ-
it was raining the day you first felt it — that creeping sensation at the back of your neck, like invisible fingers brushing against your skin.
not a storm, not anything dramatic. just that kind of soft, cold drizzle that seeped into your clothes and made the world feel like it was holding its breath. gray sky melted into gray pavement, the horizon smeared like a half-finished painting. you were standing under the chipped awning of the old bakery on the corner, the scent of yeast and sugar mixing with the rain, waiting for your usual thursday pastry that was always slightly overbaked but comfortingly warm.
you remember scrolling through your phone, aimlessly, as your friend, jake, rambled beside you about something he saw on tv. you weren't listening. you were too aware of the feeling — that hum beneath your skin. subtle but unshakable.
“there’s someone watching me,” you’d said earlier that morning, trying to brush it off with a laugh as you stirred milk into your coffee. “it’s my anxiety.” jake didn’t look up from his phone. “or maybe you’re watching yourself spiral.”
you’d rolled your eyes. maybe he was right. midterms were looming, you hadn’t slept in days, and your brain felt like it was being slowly pulled apart by rubber bands. but still. the feeling didn’t go away.
it got worse.
you’d been fidgeting, switching the weight on your feet, chewing the inside of your cheek. and then, like something calling your name without a sound, your eyes had drifted across the street.
that’s when you saw him.
a boy. or maybe a man — it was hard to tell, the rain blurred everything. tall, impossibly still, wearing a black hoodie that clung to his shoulders. he wasn’t under any kind of shelter. he stood alone, soaked to the bone, his face half-hidden by the hood, his gaze fixed. not on the road. not on the buildings. but on you.
you stared. you didn’t recognize him. not really. and yet something deep in your chest stirred like a memory. like a name you almost remembered. like a dream you’d had once and forgotten by morning.
you glanced down for a second — a message lighting up your screen.
when you looked up, he was gone.
no footsteps. no splash. just… gone.
you never told jake. what would you say? you didn’t even know what you’d seen. maybe nothing at all.
maybe your anxiety really was watching you. maybe it had grown arms and legs and a face hidden under a rain-soaked hood. maybe it had always been there, just waiting for the right day to show itself.
either way, it started then.
and it never really stopped.
-ˏˋ⋆ present day ⋆ˊˎ-
the hallway is too quiet for a friday night.
you shuffle down the corridor with a tied-up trash bag swinging limply at your side, socks stuffed in your duck slippers, slapping against the cool tile floor. the overhead light flickers once, buzzing faintly. classic.
you reach the stairwell, already bracing yourself for the sharp chill of the outside air, when you stop short.
he’s there.
leaning against the railing of the third-floor landing, hoodie pulled up over his head, cigarette dangling between his fingers — even though this is strictly a no-smoking building. he doesn’t flinch when you turn the corner. just keeps staring out at the dim skyline, face barely visible under the shadow of his hood.
you slow down, blinking.
he’s not familiar — not really. you pride yourself on knowing every face in this sleepy apartment complex, whether through polite nods in the mailroom or awkward elevator silences. but him? nothing. no name. no room number. just angles and silence.
and yet… something about him rings in your head like a half-forgotten dream.
his profile is soft, almost too pretty to be real. sharp jaw, dark lashes, bangs dipping into his eyes. he looks like he doesn’t belong here — like someone plucked him out of a bigger story and dropped him into yours by mistake.
"hey," you offer, voice casual, just above a whisper. "you new here?"
he doesn’t look at you. doesn’t answer.
awkward.
you shift the trash bag in your hands, trying again. “i live on the second floor. don’t think i’ve seen you around before.”
still nothing. just a small exhale of smoke that curls into the cold night air.
rude, you think. but not in a mean way. more like… distant. careful.
you lean against the opposite railing, letting the silence stretch for a few seconds.
"you look familiar," you say, eyes narrowing. "have we met before?"
this time, his gaze flickers. not quite to you — just past you. a twitch of recognition, maybe. or annoyance.
you can't tell.
but your brain is racing. you know him. you must. maybe in passing. maybe in a memory. maybe you’ve just seen him out here before, on the edge of your vision, existing quietly in the corners of your routine. maybe your subconscious noticed him long before you did.
he stubs out the cigarette and walks past you without a word.
you don’t move. you just watch him disappear down the hall, hoodie covered by a black jacket, hands stuffed in his pockets.
"okay then," you murmur to yourself, staring after him. and you can’t help it — the way your eyes linger on the spot he stood, heart ticking a little faster.
there’s something about him.
you just don’t know what. yet.
───
it's raining the next time you see him.
you’re standing under the overhang by the front entrance, fumbling with your umbrella, when the door swings open behind you. you glance back — and it’s him. again.
hoodie. same brown timberlands. same unreadable expression.
you swear he pauses when he sees you, just a fraction of a second. but maybe that’s in your head.
"you smoke a lot for someone living in a no-smoking building," you say without thinking, half a joke.
he doesn’t laugh. but his lips twitch, barely, like maybe he almost did.
he steps out into the rain without an umbrella.
"hey!" you call, surprised. "you're seriously just gonna walk in that?"
he doesn't stop. doesn't answer. but this time, he does glance back at you over his shoulder. eyes dark. thoughtful. like he’s trying to decide something.
“i’ve seen you before,” you say — louder, more certain now. “i just don’t remember where.”
his mouth parts, like he might say something. but then he turns and keeps walking, rain soaking into the fabric of his hoodie, blending him into the gray of the street.
and you're left standing there, umbrella unopened, heart kicking strangely against your ribs.
───
it’s quiet in the laundry room — too quiet. the kind of quiet that settles in your chest and presses down, like you’re underwater. the overhead light flickers occasionally, buzzing in protest, but no one’s bothered to fix it. you wouldn’t usually be here this late, but your sheets were stained and the smell was driving you insane. so here you are, half-past midnight, leaning against a rickety folding table, waiting.
your phone barely gets signal this far in the basement, and the wi-fi’s always spotty. it’s just you, the low groan of the washer, and your own thoughts trying to make conversation.
until the door creaks open.
you don’t jump, but your spine straightens on instinct. you don’t have to look up to know it’s him — the presence is immediate, unmistakable. that stillness in the air that follows him like a shadow. you finally glance up, and there he is. same black hoodie. same too-quiet footsteps. same face that looks like it doesn’t belong here. like it was carved into something older than this tiny suburban building.
he doesn’t say a word. just drops a bag on the floor and begins sorting laundry like it’s the most normal thing in the world. like you haven’t already seen him twice this week, always at night, always alone, always watching without watching.
“seriously?” you say, trying to keep your voice light. “do you just hang out in weird corners of this complex to freak people out?”
nothing.
he lifts a pair of dark jeans, shakes them out. you watch his fingers. they're pale. long. too clean for someone who lives in this building. you’ve lived here your whole life and never seen him before last week — and yet...
he feels familiar.
“okay,” you continue, stepping off the table now. the room feels colder suddenly. “do you live here? or are you like... a freak with laundry privileges?”
still nothing. you laugh under your breath, but it sounds too loud in the silence. your heartbeat starts to climb your throat.
then he says it. quiet. low.
“you used to wait outside the bakery every thursday. same dark purple coat. hair in a slick bun. you never looked both ways when you crossed the street.”
the words stop you cold.
“what?” you ask, your voice barely audible.
he still doesn’t look at you. he presses a button on the washer. it whirs to life.
“i remember,” he says simply.
and then he walks out.
no explanation. no glance back. just leaves you standing there, spine prickling, air thick with something you can’t name.
you don’t move for a long time. the washer keeps spinning. and somewhere in the back of your mind, a door creaks open — something old, something buried. you know that voice. you know it.
but from where?
and why now?
───
you see him again the next week.
it’s late. everything always is these days. late nights, late thoughts, late feelings that come crawling out of places you’ve spent years trying to bury.
he’s there again by the mailboxes, half-shrouded in the dim glow of the overhead light. same hoodie, same stillness. like he’s always belonged to the dark. like the world moves around him, but never through him.
you don’t say anything this time. just glance at him, let your eyes linger a little too long. the silence stretches like fog between you, thick and almost heavy.
when you get back to your apartment, you sit on the floor of your room, knees to your chest, staring at nothing. trying to remember.
because it’s not just déjà vu. it’s more insistent than that. it’s something sharper. something that presses at the edges of your mind like a dull knife.
you know him.
or—at least, you’ve seen him before. not in this life maybe, but in another version of it. in a hallway, maybe. in a photograph. in a moment you never thought would matter until it does.
you try to pull it apart, memory by memory. but your brain is tired and tangled, the way it always is when you think too hard about the past. especially your own.
your mom used to say you were dramatic. that you let small things become monsters under the bed. “don’t be so sensitive,” she’d snap, when you cried over things she didn’t understand. “you make everything so hard for yourself.”
your dad never said much at all.
they were loud in the wrong ways. silent in the ones that mattered. and you learned early how to turn your feelings into puzzles with missing pieces — complex enough to keep you distracted, but unsolvable enough to stop you from ever really facing them.
and yet, riki… there’s something about him that pulls at those missing pieces. like maybe he was one of them. like maybe he slipped into your life through a crack in the wall and waited, patiently, for you to notice.
was he from your old school? a kid from your neighborhood? someone you passed in a crowd once and never forgot, even if you didn’t realize it?
you hate not knowing. hate how it makes you feel like a child again — helpless and unsettled. desperate for answers no one’s willing to give.
maybe that’s what this really is. not fear. not obsession. just the ache of a memory that refuses to resurface.
he’s a question mark in human form. and you’ve never been good with uncertainty.
you don’t see him again for days.
which should be a relief. it should give you space to think, to forget. but it doesn’t. it just makes everything louder. the silence, the questions, the feeling in your gut that something is watching you — or waiting.
your sleep turns thin and restless. shadows stretch too long across your walls. you start leaving your bedroom light on. just in case.
one night, you wake up at 3:12 a.m., heart racing for no reason at all. it takes a second to realize what pulled you out of sleep — a sound. something light. deliberate.
a knock?
you hold your breath. wait. nothing.
you get up anyway.
there’s no one at the door. of course not. but something catches your eye as you start to turn back — something lying just at the edge of your doormat. small. folded. a piece of paper.
you hesitate, then pick it up. it’s blank on the outside. no name. no writing. nothing.
you open it slowly.
inside, in rushed, almost messy handwriting, are six words:
“do you really not remember me?”
your throat goes tight. your first instinct is to look around, scan the hallway, check the peephole twice. there’s no one.
no sound.
just that question burning in your hands.
do you really not remember me?
your fingers shake a little as you fold it back up. your brain is moving too fast and not fast enough at the same time. and that feeling — the one that’s been gnawing at you for days — it blooms in your chest like a scream that never makes it out.
because now it’s real. now you know you aren’t imagining it. the familiarity, the tension, the way your spine goes rigid every time you see him —
he knows you.
he’s known you.
and maybe you did know him once, too. maybe you still do, buried under everything you’ve forgotten on purpose.
you think about the look in his eyes that first night. the way he never said a word. the stillness of him.
you think of the hallway. the sound that woke you. the note.
you think of how you told your friend the other day, half-laughing, half-serious: “there’s someone watching me, it’s my anxiety.”
but what if it’s more than that?
what if it’s not just in your head?
what if it’s him?
───
it hits you in the middle of folding laundry.
something about the way your fingers move. something about the light slanting in through the kitchen window. warm, but not comforting. and all at once, you’re not in your apartment anymore.
you’re in a house. someone else’s. maybe your own. there’s music playing — muffled through a closed door. a cheap stereo with tinny speakers. old j-pop, the kind that loops endlessly on cassettes. the wallpaper is peeling in one corner.
and then—
a voice. soft. younger. yours.
"why do you always hide when they come home?"
someone's sitting in the hallway. knees pulled to their chest. head down. shadows in the space between them like they’re both in different dimensions.
and then he looks up.
not the man in the stairwell. not riki, not yet. just a boy. sharp eyes, hollow cheeks, hair too long in front. there’s a cut on his lip. fading purple under his eye.
“because it’s safer,” he says.
the air warps around that line, like heat off asphalt. she wants to reach for him, wants to say something back, but the memory curls tighter around her, swallowing the end of it before she can hold on.
then it’s gone.
just like that.
you blink down at the pile of laundry in your lap, hands gone still.
your chest feels tight. throat aching, like you swallowed something heavy. the apartment feels colder than it should. that voice — his voice — still rings somewhere in your bones.
because you’ve heard it before. not recently. years ago.
and suddenly you’re thinking about your father’s anger. how he used to break things before he yelled. how sometimes he didn’t yell at all. how the silence always scared you more. how you stopped inviting friends over after age ten. how there was one boy you let in. once.
his name—
you press the heel of your palm to her forehead, hard, like you can shake it loose.
it won’t come. not yet.
but the shape of it is there, curling at the edges of a memory like smoke. and the boy with the bruised mouth and quiet eyes — he's not a stranger.
not even close.
later that night, you can't sleep.
there's a weight on your chest that won’t lift no matter how you shift under the sheets. it’s not insomnia — it’s memory. something clawing at the back of your skull, begging to be seen.
so you get up.
the air in the apartment is too still. even the hum of the fridge feels distant. you don't bother with the lights. just moving barefoot and slow, like any noise might scare the truth away.
the closet in the hallway creaks when you open it. you kneel. pushing past shoeboxes, tangled cords, the mess of forgotten things. until your hand hits the one you’re looking for.
a red box. scuffed corners. cheap velvet peeled at the edges. inside: scraps of a childhood. yours.
old keychains, broken friendship bracelets, polaroids faded to brown. concert tickets. a snow globe from sapporo. and then—
a photograph.
creased down the center. color bleeding with age. a summer day, maybe. you’re younger. seven or eight. awkward teeth, sunburnt nose, some awful haircut her mother swore looked cute. and beside you —
a boy.
not smiling. just… there. close, but not touching. eyes dark and watchful even then.
and it’s him.
riki.
only it wasn’t his name back then, was it? he went by ni-ki.
your breath catches. you sit back on your heels, heart thudding in your ears.
how could you forget? they lived on the same street. just four houses down. his mom used to walk him to school until she didn’t anymore. and then he stopped coming altogether.
after that, he vanished. until now.
until the stairwell. until the way he didn’t speak but looked at her like he knew everything.
you swallow the sick twist in your stomach. the sudden, sharp cold shivering down your spine.
why was he back?
and why you?
you leave the photo on the kitchen island.
maybe it’s careless, maybe even stupid, but you tell yourself it’ll make more sense in the morning. you’ll wake up, look at it with clearer eyes, and it won’t feel like your chest is caving in. besides, you live alone. and it’s just a photo.
just a photo.
you drag yourself to the couch, the blanket scratchy against your legs, exhaustion curling into your limbs like smoke. you fall asleep fast — but it’s the wrong kind of sleep. thick, dreamless, heavy with something you can’t name. a noise pulls at you. a door. or a voice. or your own heart cracking open.
you wake up just as the first light creeps through the windows. your mouth is dry. your tongue tastes like copper.
something is off.
you walk into the kitchen, still half in a fog—and stop.
the photo is gone.
you freeze, staring at the empty spot where it had been, your thoughts moving too fast and too slow all at once. the red box is still there. untouched. the lid sitting open like a mouth waiting to swallow more. you check the floor. under the fridge. between papers. nothing.
no one could’ve taken it.
the door was locked. the windows haven’t budged. you were here. you were alone.
a chill slides down your spine, sharp and crawling. you think of him again. the way he looked at you in the stairwell. not confused. not curious.
just watching.
like he already knew what you would find.
your breath catches. you don’t even realize you’ve backed up until your shoulder hits the wall.
you don’t understand what’s happening, but something is— and it’s closing in.
the silence hums in your ears. the wind slips against the glass like breath. and then you see it.
something on the kitchen table.
not the photo. but something folded.
small. white. placed exactly where the photo had been.
your name is written on the front.
in handwriting you almost recognize.
you stare at the folded paper like it might burn through the table. your name, in soft, slanted letters—almost familiar, like a half-remembered dream. the kind you wake up from with your chest tight and eyes wet, but can’t explain to anyone without sounding insane.
your fingers hesitate.
you don’t want to touch it. you want to burn it. you want to leave the apartment and never come back.
but your hand moves anyway, like it isn’t yours. like you’re being pulled by something older than memory.
the paper is heavier than it looks. the kind of paper someone saves. the kind that lives in boxes under beds, waiting to be found.
you unfold it slowly. deliberately.
the first line makes your stomach drop:
“you used to laugh with your whole face.”
your throat tightens. your vision blurs at the edges. you keep reading.
“i remember when you were afraid of thunderstorms. you’d hide under the table with that stuffed bear. the one with the missing eye.”
you sink into the nearest chair. it creaks beneath you. your heartbeat pounds in your ears like thunder.
how does he know that?
no one remembers that.
not even your mother—too busy fighting shadows of men who never stayed long enough to learn your name.
you blink hard, trying to push away the sting in your eyes. your hand shakes as you reach the last line:
“it’s okay if you don’t remember me. i remember you.”
the note isn’t signed.
but you already know who it’s from.
and you’re not sure if that makes it better… or so much worse.
you find yourself standing at the corner of the street, unsure of where to go or how to breathe. the note is heavy in your hand, the words on it are still too real. still too impossible to wrap your mind around.
but you can’t ignore it anymore. you’ve been running from something, running from the truth, but it’s all catching up with you. and it starts with one thing—one person—who might just hold the answers.
you text jake. i need to talk to you.
he replies almost immediately: come over. i’ll make coffee.
you don’t hesitate. your body moves before your brain can catch up.
jake’s apartment smells like coffee, like books, and like something homey you can’t quite place. you’ve always liked it here—quiet, safe, with jake’s easy smile and the way he always listens like he doesn’t have a million things on his plate.
but today, when he opens the door, his smile falters. his eyes linger on the note in your hand before he invites you in.
“what’s going on?” he asks, his voice soft. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“worse,” you murmur, sitting down at the kitchen table. “riki. the guy from my apartment building. the one i’ve been thinking about.”
jake’s face changes. his usual calm demeanor cracks for a split second, but it’s enough. enough to make you sit up straighter, enough to make your heart skip a beat.
“what do you mean, the guy you’ve been thinking about?” he asks carefully. “y/n, you’ve been telling me you’ve never met him before. he’s just some weird guy who shows up at random times. are you sure you’re okay?”
you hesitate. the note is still in your hand. you want to show it to him, but something holds you back. you can’t explain this to him without sounding insane.
“he knows things, jake. about me. about my childhood. stuff no one would know.” you pause, swallowing hard. “it’s like he’s been... watching me.”
the silence in the room thickens. jake stands still, his hands gripping the edge of the table. you can feel his mind working through it, piecing things together. finally, he exhales sharply.
“you know who he is, don’t you?” jake’s voice cracks just a little, and you hate that you can hear it.
“he’s riki,” you whisper. “i know it.”
jake looks like he’s just seen a ghost too. but it’s worse than that. it’s betrayal, old wounds you never knew were still there.
“how do you know him?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
jake runs a hand through his hair, his face tight with something you can’t read. "riki... he was my best friend back home. we were inseparable when we were kids, after he randomly showed up one day. before everything in his home town happened. before he disappeared from there."
you lean forward, your heart racing. "why did he disappear?"
jake looks away, his eyes shadowed with memories. "riki got tangled up in some bad stuff, y/n. things that don’t go away, things that ruin people. he got in with the wrong crowd—gangs, debts, all kinds of shit. he disappeared from there too and... no one ever really knew what happened. but the rumors started. they said he ran. he left everything behind."
your throat tightens. “but... he didn’t.”
jake’s gaze is heavy, dark. “no. he didn’t. he’s been trying to stay hidden ever since. but some ghosts don’t stay buried, y/n.”
your chest tightens. you’ve been living in the shadow of something you can’t even remember fully. and now it’s back.
───
later that night, you find yourself standing in front of riki’s door, your heart hammering in your chest. you knock once, twice, and wait.
the door opens slowly, and riki stands there, eyes wide, almost guilty. he looks different in the light, darker somehow, worn and tired. but the same fire is still there. it’s still riki.
“you know, don’t you?” he says, his voice tight, like he’s holding something back.
you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “you disappeared. you ran. kept running. and i don’t understand why.”
riki’s eyes flicker with something—pain, maybe. “it’s not that simple. there’s things you don’t know, things i can’t tell you.”
you step closer, ignoring the hesitation in your chest. “i need to know, riki. everything. i need you to tell me.”
his jaw clenches. but then he opens the door wider, his shoulders slumping as he gestures for you to come inside.
you step into his dimly lit apartment, your heart racing. the room feels charged with something unspoken, like the air is holding its breath.
“i didn’t want you to get involved in all of this,” riki says, his voice raw. “but now that you know, i can’t just leave you hanging.”
you take a step forward, your hand trembling as you reach for him, the tension between you unbearable. “you’re not alone in this anymore, riki. i’m here.”
he looks at you, eyes haunted, like he’s trying to decide if he can trust you. then, without warning, his lips crash against yours.
you freeze for a second, the intensity of it taking you by surprise. but then your body reacts, pulling him closer, kissing him back with everything you’ve been holding in. it’s messy, desperate, like neither of you knows what’s happening but can’t stop it.
his hands are everywhere—on your waist, your back, your neck—like he’s trying to memorize you, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
your heart is racing, your body pressed against his, and for a moment, everything feels like it’s on fire.
riki pulls back, his breathing shallow, his forehead resting against yours. the tension between you two is still there, but it's different now — softer, like a thread connecting you in a way neither of you can fully explain.
"y/n," he says, his voice low but intense, trembling slightly. "there are things i never wanted to tell you, things i couldn't bear to say. i thought it would be easier to push you away, to make you hate me before you found out... but i can't do it anymore. i can't keep lying to myself."
you step back a little, your chest tightening as you watch him. his eyes are full of so many emotions—regret, pain, love—but it’s the last one that makes your heart ache with something you didn’t expect.
"i’ve been in this dark place for so long, y/n. i never thought i could get out of it. i pushed everyone away, especially you, because i knew if i let you in, you’d see the mess i am... but you’re the only one who’s ever mattered. i’ve always known it, even when i was too afraid to admit it. i love you."
his words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable. and you feel something inside of you break wide open—something you’ve been trying so hard to protect, trying to hide.
“i’ve always loved you,” riki continues, his voice softer now, almost like he’s confessing a secret that’s been buried for too long. “even when i tried to run from it, even when i tried to push you away... you were always the one. always.”
you can barely find your voice, overwhelmed by the tenderness in his words. "riki, i—"
but he shakes his head, cutting you off gently. "no, listen. i know i’ve hurt you. i know i’ve been distant, but everything i did... i did it because i was scared. scared of losing you. scared of what you’d think of me if you knew everything. but i can’t hide anymore. not from you. i’ve never stopped loving you. not even for a second.”
tears sting the back of your eyes, but you blink them away, letting his confession settle inside you. your heart feels too full, too full of emotions you don’t know how to contain. you take a deep breath, your voice trembling when you finally speak.
“i’m not going anywhere, riki,” you whisper, the words catching in your throat. “i never was. i don’t care about the past... i don’t care about what happened before. i care about you. i’ve always cared about you.”
for a moment, neither of you moves. the world feels so quiet, like everything has stopped, and it’s just the two of you in this space—this moment where everything you’ve both been hiding finally comes to light.
riki steps closer, his hands gently cupping your face, his thumbs brushing over your skin. his eyes are soft now, almost like he’s memorizing every detail of you, like he never wants to forget this moment.
“can i kiss you again?” he asks, his voice so soft, so unsure. it’s like he’s asking for permission, like he’s afraid of making the wrong move.
you nod, your breath catching in your throat. “please,” you whisper.
and then, his lips are on yours, gentle but urgent, like everything he’s held inside of him is pouring into this kiss. his hands slide to your back, pulling you closer, and you melt into him. you kiss him back with everything you’ve been holding onto, everything you’ve been feeling but never knew how to say.
when you pull back, both of you breathless, riki presses his forehead to yours, his hands resting gently on your hips. his eyes are full of that same tenderness, that same love that’s been there all along.
“i love you, y/n,” he whispers again, this time with more certainty, more peace. “and i always will. no matter what.”
and in that moment, you know, without a doubt, that everything—every question, every fear, every hesitation—has been worth it. because now, in this space, with him, everything feels right.
“i love you too, riki,” you say softly, the words more sure now. “i always will.”
and the kiss that follows is more than just passion—it’s a promise.
he breaks the kiss and leads you to his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed. he pulls you onto his lap and crashes his lips against yours once again.
but this kiss, it’s different than the others.
it’s hot. fiery. desperate.
his tongue bullies its way into your mouth, fighting for dominance which you happily give him. as you continue making out, he becomes increasingly handsy. they fly from your jaw, to your shoulder blades, sliding down to rest on your ass. he grips your clothed flesh with desire.
and that's when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness settled between his legs. pressed against your burning hot core.
you gasped into his lips and he swallowed it up eagerly.
he rolled your hips down onto his crotch, seeking friction to ease his hard on. groaning into the kiss, he broke it, tilting his head back.
you carefully observed how his adam’s apple bobbed each time he swallowed, your self control fading into nothing. reaching out to grab his neck, you lightly apply pressure as you leave sloppy, wet kisses all over his jaw. your eyes drop to his collarbones, noticing his hoodie getting in the way.
you shift in his lap, knees sinking further into his bed as your hands find his shoulders for balance. riki looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, lips parted slightly like he’s caught between breath and want. his hoodie is bunched up from where your fingers had tugged at the hem earlier, and when you reach for it again, he doesn’t stop you.
you pull it over his head slowly, your fingers grazing warm skin as the fabric slides up and off. beneath it, he’s wearing a black tank top that clings to him in all the right places—soft cotton stretched over lean muscle, tracing the shape of his chest and the dip of his waist.
his collarbones catch the low light of the room, sharp and defined, leading down to the elegant curve of his neck. you can see the slight rise and fall of it as he swallows, your gaze drifting lower to the sculpted line of his biceps, muscles flexing subtly under your weight, like he’s holding back.
he looks devastating like this—relaxed and bare in a way that feels forbidden, like you’re seeing something no one else is allowed to.
"you’re staring," he says quietly, a flicker of amusement in his voice, but there's a softness to it too, like he doesn’t mind being seen this way. like he wants you to look.
you smile, brushing your fingers across his shoulder, down his arm, feeling the strength beneath the surface. "can you blame me?"
he laughs under his breath, hands settling at your hips, warm and steady. "not really."
you lean in closer, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck, right where it meets his collarbone. he shivers under your touch, and you feel it in your core—how easy it is to fall into him, how right it feels to be here like this.
you push him further on his bed, his back hitting the soft comforter, hands never leaving your hips.
he captures your lips once again in a kiss that's delicate, like he’s trying to process everything but he can’t. are you really here with him right now? his childhood best friend who he forced himself to cut contact with—but then again, did he ever really cut contact with you? he had to make sure you were okay one way or another, so he watched from the shadows. even if it meant sacrificing his greatest love. you.
as if you could sense the gears overheating in his brain, you pull away from him and stare into his familiar brown eyes. he pouts and you see a glimpse of ni-ki. the scared, eight year old who you’d give up anything to protect.
he cradles your face like you’re made of glass and whispers, “are you sure you want this, angel? because once i start… i don’t think i’ll be able to stop.”
you nod your head, but that doesn’t seem to be enough for him, “words, baby. i need words, hmm?” you bite back a flustered smile, “yeah ni-ki, i want this. you.”
he grins hearing his childhood name fall out of your soft, sweet lips and picks you up off his lap so he can rest with his back against the headboard.
settling back on his thighs, and becoming increasingly impatient, you roll your hips against his, surprising him.
he lets out a breathy moan, urging you to continue. you want to hear each of his pretty sounds.
pressing your clothed clit into the tip of his dick, he closes his eyes, biting his lip. you feel him pulsing beneath you, the thin layer of his sweats not doing much to hide his arousal.
neither of you have ever been this turned on just by kissing, heavy petting, and grinding. but neither of you dare to stop. it feels too good, like a craving you’ve subconsciously had.
riki pauses the movement of your hips, being the first one to break this careful, but familiar, tension between you two. “baby, give me a sec. i’m c-close,” he mutters.
wanting to see what he looks like when he finishes, you grin, dragging your hips down harder and slower, in a teasing manner. he groans, but with the same teasing energy, bucks his hips up into yours, allowing you to feel just how big he is—and he knows it, too. judging by your reaction, he can tell it’s been a while since you’ve both been intimate with someone else.
feeling his release closer than he’d say out loud, he takes control of your movements, speeding them up. you can feel how badly he needs this. how desperate he needs you.
the friction of his covered cock rubbing repeatedly on your sensitive clit, feels better than anything you’ve ever tried with others or yourself. you’re both panting, forehead to forehead, when everything comes crashing down. riki releases into his gray sweats, making a mess. he swears he’s never cum that hard. and your panties get increasingly sticky and uncomfortable.
basking in the aftermath of your shared orgasm, riki gently holds you by the waist, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. lots of “you did great,” “that felt so good, baby,” and a lot of whining. “i need you so bad,” “please, angel, i’ll make you feel so so good.”
who are you to deny your first and only love?
you slowly stand on wobbly legs, stripping, giving riki a show.
he gawks as you remove each item of clothing, starting with your shirt. he’s surprised you aren’t wearing a bra but when your perky tits come into his eyesight, he’s right in front of you. grabbing—licking—whatever’s closest to his mouth and hands.
feeling a bit exposed, while he’s still fully clothed, you whimper into his mouth, silently asking him to take his clothes off as well.
speeding up the process, he rips his tank top off and finally. finally. you get a glimpse of what he always hides under his baggy hoodies. sculpted by the greek gods, you nearly drool at his defined torso. reaching out to drag a hand down his abs, riki shivers at your gentle, yet burning, touch.
you back him up so he sits on his bed and slowly sink to your knees. he leans back on his palms, quiet, but watching you like a hawk. you bring a hand up to cup his bulge, not caring about the sticky stain he’s left.
he groans, low, hot, and it goes straight to your wetness, practically leaking on his floor.
with your hands gripping his waistband, you look up into his dark eyes, clouded with lust, and he nods lifting his hips. yanking his sweats down, you’re met with his hard cock, slapping his abs. “no boxers, huh?” you smugly ask, as if he anticipated this. “nah, not when i’m relaxing, sweetheart.” sweetheart. the name he called you the last day you saw him as kids.
staring at his flushed cock, you lick your lips, ready to devour the man sitting in front of you.
you start by gripping his base, your fingers not fully wrapping around him. how the fuck are you supposed to fit him inside your mouth? a problem you’ve never faced, but for riki? you’d be stupid not to choke on it.
giving his tip sweet little kitten licks, you dig your tongue into his slit, as if you were trying to drink up all his precum. “fuck,” he grunts out, hoping you didn’t discover how sensitive he was at his tip.
he thinks you didn’t, but he should really know better.
you focus all your attention on his swollen head, sucking softly and jerking off the rest of his lengthy dick. his back falls flat, resting on his bed, while he lets out a symphony of moans.
abruptly, you pull off him and when he leans up on his elbows to see why, he’s met with the sight of spit falling from your lips, landing right on his tip. then, his vision goes white.
you lean down, shoving him in your mouth, lips stretched around his girth.
you take him halfway, and the stretch alone is painful already. knowing this might be an issue, riki speaks up, “fuck, you don’t have to take all of me, this already feels so—” but you cut him off, when you sink your mouth further, his tip hitting your throat.
you swallow around him and he whimpers. he’s never felt anything like this before.
when he’s tried to hook up with girls in the past, they normally gave up after a minute of trying to unhinge their jaw to please him.
but with you? he should’ve known you’d be the one to make him proud.
noticing how surprised he is, you start bobbing your head up and down, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.
it’s messy, wet, and loud. but neither of you care. not when riki is whimpering beneath you so prettily.
his tip repeatedly slams into the back of your throat, making you gag but it just turns him on more. his thighs start to tense and he knows he’s close to his second orgasm.
feeling him twitch in your mouth, you hollow your cheeks and ignore the tears streaming down your face. only focused on his pleasure. you know exactly what will push him over the edge, so you bring your mouth up his cock, lips wrapped carefully around his tip.
swirling your tongue around it, occasionally focusing on his slit, you bring one hand up to his balls and the other to wrap around his base, applying pressure to the vein running along his shaft.
one second later, your mouth gets flooded with his sticky, hot cum. rope after rope shooting from his enlarged tip. his dick is pulsing in your mouth and his cum never ends. it’s spilling out of your mouth onto the floor, but you try and swallow everything you can, not wanting to waste even a drop.
his chest is rapidly rising and falling when you pull off of him with a pop. you wipe your mouth with the sleeve of your shirt and smile sweetly at him, acting like you didn’t just suck him so good his soul left his body.
“damn, baby, didn’t know you wanted me that bad.” he says through a smirk. “calm down nishimura, i could’ve filled up a gallon of water with how much you came,” you bite back. he just looks at your tear stained cheeks and a sense of pride swells in his chest.
while he’s lost in his thoughts, you stand up, knees bruised from his hardwood floor.
glancing between his legs, you notice he’s still hard. how much cum does he have for you? you wonder, taking off your jeans and panties in one go.
now that you’re both fully naked, riki gets up off his bed and approaches you, holding one of your hands. he spins you around, taking in your fully nude body for the first time.
noticing his staring, you open your mouth, “are you just gonna stare or fuck me?”
smoothly, he leads you to lie down on his bed, “patience, princess, be good for me while i take care of you, yeah?” oh you’re gone already.
he leans down to kiss you and your hands find his nape, gently grabbing the hair trailing down his neck.
you mistook riki for an ass guy, when his fascination with your tits makes you break the kiss. he’s sucking gently on your right nipple, his free hand finding your left boob.
moaning gently, you tip your head back into his pillow that smells like comfort, and something musky, but it’s something extremely riki. you instinctively arch into his touch, bare core desperately grinding into the air of his bedroom, desperate for friction.
he senses your neediness, bringing his stiff cock down to rub between your soaked folds. his tip catches your clit, eliciting soft whimpers from your parted lips. using your slick as lube, he lines himself up, stopping before he goes further. “condom?” he sweetly asks. you whisper, under your breath, “n-no, i’m on birth—,” however, you don’t get to answer him when you feel his tip slide into your awaiting hole.
both moaning in relief, he stays with just his tip in, preparing you for the stretch that’s about to come. you relax a bit, a signal for him to push a bit further, cutting off his action with a loud moan.
it’s better than any porn he could dream of, and he’s only about two inches in. the sheer girth of him alone makes it feel like he’s splitting you open in the best way possible.
you look down, thinking he’s halfway in, when in reality, he’s about a fourth of the way inside you. meeting his eyes, he senses your nerves, bringing a hand down to rub your sensitive bundle of nerves.
it helps distract you from the pain, allowing him to slide half way in. he groans at the sensation of your warm, wet walls, engulfing his aching cock. “baby, you gotta relax… you’re s’tight,” he drunkenly mumbles. you can only whimper in response, exhaling as you try to calm down.
once your breathing has returned to a normal state, riki slowly pushes in more, but it all comes to a halt when you wrap your legs around his torso, pulling him all the way in.
he moans, caught off guard, guessing your patience snapped like a thin wire.
as his thick length rests inside you, you can’t help but let out a string of moans, incoherently babbling about how big he feels, and how deep he’s reaching.
“f-fuck. baby, please, can—can i move?” he forces out. you hum in agreement.
he slowly pulls out until only his tip is sheathed inside your warm pussy, then pushes back in all the way. your eyes roll into the back of your head, “fuck. s—s’big, riks.” his pace steadily increases until he notices how your boobs bounce with each thrust he gives you.
he brings his head down, lips wrapping around one of the perky budd, giving you even more pleasure than you knew what to do with.
loud moans grace his ears, the only other sound being skin slapping.
his attention is dragged back to your face when one of your hands reaches for his and brings it up to your neck. his pace falters for a bit until his face contorts, realization dawning over his lust filled features. “oh? does my baby wanna be choked? dirty slut.” you nod in response.
feeling the pressure of his cold ring clad fingers wrapping around your burning flesh, you let out a sigh of relief, the tension in your tummy building at a rapid pace.
riki suddenly pulls out of you, flipping you on all fours, placing a pillow under your stomach. he drags your hips up, kneading the plumpness of your ass. he slams back into you, reaching even deeper in your guts, as he hovers over your back.
“you like feelin’ me this deep, hm?” he takes your hand and places it over the bump you feel with every thrust. your noises are muffled by his bed, which ticks him off—he wants to hear every sound that slips through your mouth. noticing that you liked things a bit rough, he pulls your hair, bringing you flush against the hardness of his chest.
he stills inside you, letting you feel every inch, twitch, and pulse. he’s holding off his orgasm for as long as he can, but he’s not sure how long he can last when you keep clenching around him.
he knows it’s unintentional, but it feels too good, he just needs a second.
you can feel him breathing down your neck when you begin to move. he tries stopping you, but to no avail, you start bouncing on his stiffened cock.
“f-fuck. gonna—cum,” he moans when he attempts to pull out. you push him back down, needing to feel him fill you up. “no. inside,” is all you can muster when he makes a sound of confusion.
slowly gaining confidence, you turn around, and flip him over so you’re on top of him.
flustered by the change in positions, riki gasps when you start to move. his hand finds your clit, rubbing in tight circles.
the band in your stomach starts building, fueling both of your desperation.
your orgasm comes crashing down in waves, pushing riki to buck his hips up, fucking you through it. “that’s it, baby, let it out. c’mon, be a good girl f’me and make a mess,” he mutters out, wanting to prolong your pleasure for as long as he can.
as you cum, your walls uncontrollably clench around his dick, making it harder for him to slide in and out. he starts to chase his own high, gently placing your head back on his pillow and picking up your legs to rest on his shoulders.
he pistons in and out of you, mind hazy, consumed with the need to cum inside of you.
groaning, he stills in your abused cunt, flooding you with the gift of his cum. each pulse, you clench around his hard cock, milking him dry.
he’s on cloud nine, feeling the way you’re taking everything he could possibly offer you.
just as he thinks he’s nearing the end of his high, you whisper in a sultry voice, “you’re still hard, riks,” which makes his skin flush a deep red. his balls tighten and somehow a couple more ropes of cum shoot into your womb. he doesn’t know what you do to him, “take it out on me, baby, i can’t imagine how pent up you must be…” and that does it for him.
wanting to try something new, he straddles your torso, pushing your plush tits together. he aligns his sensitive cock between the flesh and slowly slides through. you stick your tongue out, trying to lick his tip each time it peeks between your boobs.
his cock is nearly too thick for your tits to wrap around him, but he doesn’t care. the sight is more than enough for him to finish.
he’s already close.
the sensitivity gets to him when you begin to hold your tits together, giving him an unobstructed view of you. each time your tongue laps at his slit, he feels himself growing closer to the high he so badly craves.
what really does it for him, is when you spit between your breasts, further lubing his cock. with a low, drawn-out moan, he paints your tits and face with his cum. the sight is too much, his balls go into overdrive, pulsing out more and more ropes of his white, messy load.
your mouth hangs open, wanting to taste more of the salty substance. he thinks you’re perfect.
he collapses on top of you, feeling spent and tired. it’s only when you whine about the stickiness between your legs, on your boobs, and on your face that he gets out of bed, rushing to his bathroom.
he makes his way back over to you with a warm washcloth, and the softest touch you’ve ever felt. he gently cleans the mess he made, only now realizing how much cum he gave you.
and you took all of it. his good girl.
once he’s done wiping away his mess, he picks you up bridal style, heading back to his bathroom. to your surprise, he drew you a bath, with scented candles—lavender. he remembered your favorite.
he helps you into the tub, climbing in behind you. he shampoos your hair, conditions it, and even washes your body with such care, it brings tears to your eyes.
after many hushed whispers, he drains the bathtub, helping you dry off and get into your (his) clothes.
you both get back into his bed, snuggled against one another, riki’s embrace wrapped around you warmer than any blanket could provide.
“riki?” you whisper, afraid to shatter the delicate silence. he hums in response. “please don’t leave me again,” you say trembling, a silent tear slipping down your cheek.
he turns you to face him, “hey, hey, hey, baby, i’m right here. and i know what i did was shitty, you deserved an explanation. but. i couldn’t let you get caught up in what i was doing. it was risky, i couldn’t be what you deserve,” he croaks out, tears wetting his lashes. now it was your turn to comfort him, “oh my riki,” you cooed, cradling his face.
“you did what you had to do, but what’s important is that you’re here now. with me. okay?” you plant the softest kiss on his plump lips. “okay,” he says with a small smile.
you don’t let go. neither does he. his hands stay on your waist, tentative but needing, like he’s still trying to memorize the feel of you. your fingers linger against his jaw, your thumb brushing the damp skin beneath his eye. there’s silence between you, but it’s no longer heavy—just full. thick with everything that couldn’t be said before.
his lips brush against yours again—slower this time, deeper. like a question. and an answer. you lean in, the way you sigh into him. it’s not desperate, not rushed. it’s reverent.
when he pulls back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath is shaky. “i missed you,” he whispers, voice barely audible. “missed you so much i forgot how to breathe without it hurting.”
you cup his face in both hands now, heart aching in the best way. “i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.”
and then you kiss him again—like a vow sealed in warmth and want. like a beginning.
reblog if u enjoyed this! and comment or send an ask to be part of my perm taglist <3
[ @jaeyuniversal ] prod. 250419
anxiety - n.rk
pairing: stranger!nishimura riki x fem!reader
synopsis: you meet him on a quiet night — a stranger with sharp eyes and a colder edge, nothing like anyone in your sleepy suburb. he won’t talk, barely looks at you, but something about him lingers. maybe you’re just curious. or maybe you’ve seen him before.
featuring: ni-ki & jake of enhypen
genre: childhood friends to lovers, a sprinkle of angst, smut, skinship, kissing, etc.
warnings: smut (18+), difficult relationships with parents, love at first sight lowk, vulnerability, themes of implied watching (not rlly stalking) but it isn't graphic, riki smokes cigs, uhhh i think that's it?? lowercase intended heh
playlist: anxiety by doechii, clarity by zedd & sacrifice by enhypen
(smut warnings under cut)
wc: 9.120k
a/n: this is way longer than i expected but it came to me in a dream... enjoy! also i'm gonna start a perm taglist! comment on any of my fics or send an ask to be added! <3
smut content: riki's PACKING, they cum in their pants lol, dry humping, deepthroating kinda, backshots LMAO, missionary, dom!riki x sub!reader, degradation & praise kinks, creampie, like SO MUCH cum... n e ways! fluffy aftercare, unprotected sex (wrap b4 you tap), tit fucking, oral (m. receiving), choking, everything is consensual, riki and reader are both so down bad for each other... lmk if i missed anything :3
(not proofread)
-ˏˋ⋆ 7 months ago ⋆ˊˎ-
it was raining the day you first felt it — that creeping sensation at the back of your neck, like invisible fingers brushing against your skin.
not a storm, not anything dramatic. just that kind of soft, cold drizzle that seeped into your clothes and made the world feel like it was holding its breath. gray sky melted into gray pavement, the horizon smeared like a half-finished painting. you were standing under the chipped awning of the old bakery on the corner, the scent of yeast and sugar mixing with the rain, waiting for your usual thursday pastry that was always slightly overbaked but comfortingly warm.
you remember scrolling through your phone, aimlessly, as your friend, jake, rambled beside you about something he saw on tv. you weren't listening. you were too aware of the feeling — that hum beneath your skin. subtle but unshakable.
“there’s someone watching me,” you’d said earlier that morning, trying to brush it off with a laugh as you stirred milk into your coffee. “it’s my anxiety.” jake didn’t look up from his phone. “or maybe you’re watching yourself spiral.”
you’d rolled your eyes. maybe he was right. midterms were looming, you hadn’t slept in days, and your brain felt like it was being slowly pulled apart by rubber bands. but still. the feeling didn’t go away.
it got worse.
you’d been fidgeting, switching the weight on your feet, chewing the inside of your cheek. and then, like something calling your name without a sound, your eyes had drifted across the street.
that’s when you saw him.
a boy. or maybe a man — it was hard to tell, the rain blurred everything. tall, impossibly still, wearing a black hoodie that clung to his shoulders. he wasn’t under any kind of shelter. he stood alone, soaked to the bone, his face half-hidden by the hood, his gaze fixed. not on the road. not on the buildings. but on you.
you stared. you didn’t recognize him. not really. and yet something deep in your chest stirred like a memory. like a name you almost remembered. like a dream you’d had once and forgotten by morning.
you glanced down for a second — a message lighting up your screen.
when you looked up, he was gone.
no footsteps. no splash. just… gone.
you never told jake. what would you say? you didn’t even know what you’d seen. maybe nothing at all.
maybe your anxiety really was watching you. maybe it had grown arms and legs and a face hidden under a rain-soaked hood. maybe it had always been there, just waiting for the right day to show itself.
either way, it started then.
and it never really stopped.
-ˏˋ⋆ present day ⋆ˊˎ-
the hallway is too quiet for a friday night.
you shuffle down the corridor with a tied-up trash bag swinging limply at your side, socks stuffed in your duck slippers, slapping against the cool tile floor. the overhead light flickers once, buzzing faintly. classic.
you reach the stairwell, already bracing yourself for the sharp chill of the outside air, when you stop short.
he’s there.
leaning against the railing of the third-floor landing, hoodie pulled up over his head, cigarette dangling between his fingers — even though this is strictly a no-smoking building. he doesn’t flinch when you turn the corner. just keeps staring out at the dim skyline, face barely visible under the shadow of his hood.
you slow down, blinking.
he’s not familiar — not really. you pride yourself on knowing every face in this sleepy apartment complex, whether through polite nods in the mailroom or awkward elevator silences. but him? nothing. no name. no room number. just angles and silence.
and yet… something about him rings in your head like a half-forgotten dream.
his profile is soft, almost too pretty to be real. sharp jaw, dark lashes, bangs dipping into his eyes. he looks like he doesn’t belong here — like someone plucked him out of a bigger story and dropped him into yours by mistake.
"hey," you offer, voice casual, just above a whisper. "you new here?"
he doesn’t look at you. doesn’t answer.
awkward.
you shift the trash bag in your hands, trying again. “i live on the second floor. don’t think i’ve seen you around before.”
still nothing. just a small exhale of smoke that curls into the cold night air.
rude, you think. but not in a mean way. more like… distant. careful.
you lean against the opposite railing, letting the silence stretch for a few seconds.
"you look familiar," you say, eyes narrowing. "have we met before?"
this time, his gaze flickers. not quite to you — just past you. a twitch of recognition, maybe. or annoyance.
you can't tell.
but your brain is racing. you know him. you must. maybe in passing. maybe in a memory. maybe you’ve just seen him out here before, on the edge of your vision, existing quietly in the corners of your routine. maybe your subconscious noticed him long before you did.
he stubs out the cigarette and walks past you without a word.
you don’t move. you just watch him disappear down the hall, hoodie covered by a black jacket, hands stuffed in his pockets.
"okay then," you murmur to yourself, staring after him. and you can’t help it — the way your eyes linger on the spot he stood, heart ticking a little faster.
there’s something about him.
you just don’t know what. yet.
───
it's raining the next time you see him.
you’re standing under the overhang by the front entrance, fumbling with your umbrella, when the door swings open behind you. you glance back — and it’s him. again.
hoodie. same brown timberlands. same unreadable expression.
you swear he pauses when he sees you, just a fraction of a second. but maybe that’s in your head.
"you smoke a lot for someone living in a no-smoking building," you say without thinking, half a joke.
he doesn’t laugh. but his lips twitch, barely, like maybe he almost did.
he steps out into the rain without an umbrella.
"hey!" you call, surprised. "you're seriously just gonna walk in that?"
he doesn't stop. doesn't answer. but this time, he does glance back at you over his shoulder. eyes dark. thoughtful. like he’s trying to decide something.
“i’ve seen you before,” you say — louder, more certain now. “i just don’t remember where.”
his mouth parts, like he might say something. but then he turns and keeps walking, rain soaking into the fabric of his hoodie, blending him into the gray of the street.
and you're left standing there, umbrella unopened, heart kicking strangely against your ribs.
───
it’s quiet in the laundry room — too quiet. the kind of quiet that settles in your chest and presses down, like you’re underwater. the overhead light flickers occasionally, buzzing in protest, but no one’s bothered to fix it. you wouldn’t usually be here this late, but your sheets were stained and the smell was driving you insane. so here you are, half-past midnight, leaning against a rickety folding table, waiting.
your phone barely gets signal this far in the basement, and the wi-fi’s always spotty. it’s just you, the low groan of the washer, and your own thoughts trying to make conversation.
until the door creaks open.
you don’t jump, but your spine straightens on instinct. you don’t have to look up to know it’s him — the presence is immediate, unmistakable. that stillness in the air that follows him like a shadow. you finally glance up, and there he is. same black hoodie. same too-quiet footsteps. same face that looks like it doesn’t belong here. like it was carved into something older than this tiny suburban building.
he doesn’t say a word. just drops a bag on the floor and begins sorting laundry like it’s the most normal thing in the world. like you haven’t already seen him twice this week, always at night, always alone, always watching without watching.
“seriously?” you say, trying to keep your voice light. “do you just hang out in weird corners of this complex to freak people out?”
nothing.
he lifts a pair of dark jeans, shakes them out. you watch his fingers. they're pale. long. too clean for someone who lives in this building. you’ve lived here your whole life and never seen him before last week — and yet...
he feels familiar.
“okay,” you continue, stepping off the table now. the room feels colder suddenly. “do you live here? or are you like... a freak with laundry privileges?”
still nothing. you laugh under your breath, but it sounds too loud in the silence. your heartbeat starts to climb your throat.
then he says it. quiet. low.
“you used to wait outside the bakery every thursday. same dark purple coat. hair in a slick bun. you never looked both ways when you crossed the street.”
the words stop you cold.
“what?” you ask, your voice barely audible.
he still doesn’t look at you. he presses a button on the washer. it whirs to life.
“i remember,” he says simply.
and then he walks out.
no explanation. no glance back. just leaves you standing there, spine prickling, air thick with something you can’t name.
you don’t move for a long time. the washer keeps spinning. and somewhere in the back of your mind, a door creaks open — something old, something buried. you know that voice. you know it.
but from where?
and why now?
───
you see him again the next week.
it’s late. everything always is these days. late nights, late thoughts, late feelings that come crawling out of places you’ve spent years trying to bury.
he’s there again by the mailboxes, half-shrouded in the dim glow of the overhead light. same hoodie, same stillness. like he’s always belonged to the dark. like the world moves around him, but never through him.
you don’t say anything this time. just glance at him, let your eyes linger a little too long. the silence stretches like fog between you, thick and almost heavy.
when you get back to your apartment, you sit on the floor of your room, knees to your chest, staring at nothing. trying to remember.
because it’s not just déjà vu. it’s more insistent than that. it’s something sharper. something that presses at the edges of your mind like a dull knife.
you know him.
or—at least, you’ve seen him before. not in this life maybe, but in another version of it. in a hallway, maybe. in a photograph. in a moment you never thought would matter until it does.
you try to pull it apart, memory by memory. but your brain is tired and tangled, the way it always is when you think too hard about the past. especially your own.
your mom used to say you were dramatic. that you let small things become monsters under the bed. “don’t be so sensitive,” she’d snap, when you cried over things she didn’t understand. “you make everything so hard for yourself.”
your dad never said much at all.
they were loud in the wrong ways. silent in the ones that mattered. and you learned early how to turn your feelings into puzzles with missing pieces — complex enough to keep you distracted, but unsolvable enough to stop you from ever really facing them.
and yet, riki… there’s something about him that pulls at those missing pieces. like maybe he was one of them. like maybe he slipped into your life through a crack in the wall and waited, patiently, for you to notice.
was he from your old school? a kid from your neighborhood? someone you passed in a crowd once and never forgot, even if you didn’t realize it?
you hate not knowing. hate how it makes you feel like a child again — helpless and unsettled. desperate for answers no one’s willing to give.
maybe that’s what this really is. not fear. not obsession. just the ache of a memory that refuses to resurface.
he’s a question mark in human form. and you’ve never been good with uncertainty.
you don’t see him again for days.
which should be a relief. it should give you space to think, to forget. but it doesn’t. it just makes everything louder. the silence, the questions, the feeling in your gut that something is watching you — or waiting.
your sleep turns thin and restless. shadows stretch too long across your walls. you start leaving your bedroom light on. just in case.
one night, you wake up at 3:12 a.m., heart racing for no reason at all. it takes a second to realize what pulled you out of sleep — a sound. something light. deliberate.
a knock?
you hold your breath. wait. nothing.
you get up anyway.
there’s no one at the door. of course not. but something catches your eye as you start to turn back — something lying just at the edge of your doormat. small. folded. a piece of paper.
you hesitate, then pick it up. it’s blank on the outside. no name. no writing. nothing.
you open it slowly.
inside, in rushed, almost messy handwriting, are six words:
“do you really not remember me?”
your throat goes tight. your first instinct is to look around, scan the hallway, check the peephole twice. there’s no one.
no sound.
just that question burning in your hands.
do you really not remember me?
your fingers shake a little as you fold it back up. your brain is moving too fast and not fast enough at the same time. and that feeling — the one that’s been gnawing at you for days — it blooms in your chest like a scream that never makes it out.
because now it’s real. now you know you aren’t imagining it. the familiarity, the tension, the way your spine goes rigid every time you see him —
he knows you.
he’s known you.
and maybe you did know him once, too. maybe you still do, buried under everything you’ve forgotten on purpose.
you think about the look in his eyes that first night. the way he never said a word. the stillness of him.
you think of the hallway. the sound that woke you. the note.
you think of how you told your friend the other day, half-laughing, half-serious: “there’s someone watching me, it’s my anxiety.”
but what if it’s more than that?
what if it’s not just in your head?
what if it’s him?
───
it hits you in the middle of folding laundry.
something about the way your fingers move. something about the light slanting in through the kitchen window. warm, but not comforting. and all at once, you’re not in your apartment anymore.
you’re in a house. someone else’s. maybe your own. there’s music playing — muffled through a closed door. a cheap stereo with tinny speakers. old j-pop, the kind that loops endlessly on cassettes. the wallpaper is peeling in one corner.
and then—
a voice. soft. younger. yours.
"why do you always hide when they come home?"
someone's sitting in the hallway. knees pulled to their chest. head down. shadows in the space between them like they’re both in different dimensions.
and then he looks up.
not the man in the stairwell. not riki, not yet. just a boy. sharp eyes, hollow cheeks, hair too long in front. there’s a cut on his lip. fading purple under his eye.
“because it’s safer,” he says.
the air warps around that line, like heat off asphalt. she wants to reach for him, wants to say something back, but the memory curls tighter around her, swallowing the end of it before she can hold on.
then it’s gone.
just like that.
you blink down at the pile of laundry in your lap, hands gone still.
your chest feels tight. throat aching, like you swallowed something heavy. the apartment feels colder than it should. that voice — his voice — still rings somewhere in your bones.
because you’ve heard it before. not recently. years ago.
and suddenly you’re thinking about your father’s anger. how he used to break things before he yelled. how sometimes he didn’t yell at all. how the silence always scared you more. how you stopped inviting friends over after age ten. how there was one boy you let in. once.
his name—
you press the heel of your palm to her forehead, hard, like you can shake it loose.
it won’t come. not yet.
but the shape of it is there, curling at the edges of a memory like smoke. and the boy with the bruised mouth and quiet eyes — he's not a stranger.
not even close.
later that night, you can't sleep.
there's a weight on your chest that won’t lift no matter how you shift under the sheets. it’s not insomnia — it’s memory. something clawing at the back of your skull, begging to be seen.
so you get up.
the air in the apartment is too still. even the hum of the fridge feels distant. you don't bother with the lights. just moving barefoot and slow, like any noise might scare the truth away.
the closet in the hallway creaks when you open it. you kneel. pushing past shoeboxes, tangled cords, the mess of forgotten things. until your hand hits the one you’re looking for.
a red box. scuffed corners. cheap velvet peeled at the edges. inside: scraps of a childhood. yours.
old keychains, broken friendship bracelets, polaroids faded to brown. concert tickets. a snow globe from sapporo. and then—
a photograph.
creased down the center. color bleeding with age. a summer day, maybe. you’re younger. seven or eight. awkward teeth, sunburnt nose, some awful haircut her mother swore looked cute. and beside you —
a boy.
not smiling. just… there. close, but not touching. eyes dark and watchful even then.
and it’s him.
riki.
only it wasn’t his name back then, was it? he went by ni-ki.
your breath catches. you sit back on your heels, heart thudding in your ears.
how could you forget? they lived on the same street. just four houses down. his mom used to walk him to school until she didn’t anymore. and then he stopped coming altogether.
after that, he vanished. until now.
until the stairwell. until the way he didn’t speak but looked at her like he knew everything.
you swallow the sick twist in your stomach. the sudden, sharp cold shivering down your spine.
why was he back?
and why you?
you leave the photo on the kitchen island.
maybe it’s careless, maybe even stupid, but you tell yourself it’ll make more sense in the morning. you’ll wake up, look at it with clearer eyes, and it won’t feel like your chest is caving in. besides, you live alone. and it’s just a photo.
just a photo.
you drag yourself to the couch, the blanket scratchy against your legs, exhaustion curling into your limbs like smoke. you fall asleep fast — but it’s the wrong kind of sleep. thick, dreamless, heavy with something you can’t name. a noise pulls at you. a door. or a voice. or your own heart cracking open.
you wake up just as the first light creeps through the windows. your mouth is dry. your tongue tastes like copper.
something is off.
you walk into the kitchen, still half in a fog—and stop.
the photo is gone.
you freeze, staring at the empty spot where it had been, your thoughts moving too fast and too slow all at once. the red box is still there. untouched. the lid sitting open like a mouth waiting to swallow more. you check the floor. under the fridge. between papers. nothing.
no one could’ve taken it.
the door was locked. the windows haven’t budged. you were here. you were alone.
a chill slides down your spine, sharp and crawling. you think of him again. the way he looked at you in the stairwell. not confused. not curious.
just watching.
like he already knew what you would find.
your breath catches. you don’t even realize you’ve backed up until your shoulder hits the wall.
you don’t understand what’s happening, but something is— and it’s closing in.
the silence hums in your ears. the wind slips against the glass like breath. and then you see it.
something on the kitchen table.
not the photo. but something folded.
small. white. placed exactly where the photo had been.
your name is written on the front.
in handwriting you almost recognize.
you stare at the folded paper like it might burn through the table. your name, in soft, slanted letters—almost familiar, like a half-remembered dream. the kind you wake up from with your chest tight and eyes wet, but can’t explain to anyone without sounding insane.
your fingers hesitate.
you don’t want to touch it. you want to burn it. you want to leave the apartment and never come back.
but your hand moves anyway, like it isn’t yours. like you’re being pulled by something older than memory.
the paper is heavier than it looks. the kind of paper someone saves. the kind that lives in boxes under beds, waiting to be found.
you unfold it slowly. deliberately.
the first line makes your stomach drop:
“you used to laugh with your whole face.”
your throat tightens. your vision blurs at the edges. you keep reading.
“i remember when you were afraid of thunderstorms. you’d hide under the table with that stuffed bear. the one with the missing eye.”
you sink into the nearest chair. it creaks beneath you. your heartbeat pounds in your ears like thunder.
how does he know that?
no one remembers that.
not even your mother—too busy fighting shadows of men who never stayed long enough to learn your name.
you blink hard, trying to push away the sting in your eyes. your hand shakes as you reach the last line:
“it’s okay if you don’t remember me. i remember you.”
the note isn’t signed.
but you already know who it’s from.
and you’re not sure if that makes it better… or so much worse.
you find yourself standing at the corner of the street, unsure of where to go or how to breathe. the note is heavy in your hand, the words on it are still too real. still too impossible to wrap your mind around.
but you can’t ignore it anymore. you’ve been running from something, running from the truth, but it’s all catching up with you. and it starts with one thing—one person—who might just hold the answers.
you text jake. i need to talk to you.
he replies almost immediately: come over. i’ll make coffee.
you don’t hesitate. your body moves before your brain can catch up.
jake’s apartment smells like coffee, like books, and like something homey you can’t quite place. you’ve always liked it here—quiet, safe, with jake’s easy smile and the way he always listens like he doesn’t have a million things on his plate.
but today, when he opens the door, his smile falters. his eyes linger on the note in your hand before he invites you in.
“what’s going on?” he asks, his voice soft. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“worse,” you murmur, sitting down at the kitchen table. “riki. the guy from my apartment building. the one i’ve been thinking about.”
jake’s face changes. his usual calm demeanor cracks for a split second, but it’s enough. enough to make you sit up straighter, enough to make your heart skip a beat.
“what do you mean, the guy you’ve been thinking about?” he asks carefully. “y/n, you’ve been telling me you’ve never met him before. he’s just some weird guy who shows up at random times. are you sure you’re okay?”
you hesitate. the note is still in your hand. you want to show it to him, but something holds you back. you can’t explain this to him without sounding insane.
“he knows things, jake. about me. about my childhood. stuff no one would know.” you pause, swallowing hard. “it’s like he’s been... watching me.”
the silence in the room thickens. jake stands still, his hands gripping the edge of the table. you can feel his mind working through it, piecing things together. finally, he exhales sharply.
“you know who he is, don’t you?” jake’s voice cracks just a little, and you hate that you can hear it.
“he’s riki,” you whisper. “i know it.”
jake looks like he’s just seen a ghost too. but it’s worse than that. it’s betrayal, old wounds you never knew were still there.
“how do you know him?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
jake runs a hand through his hair, his face tight with something you can’t read. "riki... he was my best friend back home. we were inseparable when we were kids, after he randomly showed up one day. before everything in his home town happened. before he disappeared from there."
you lean forward, your heart racing. "why did he disappear?"
jake looks away, his eyes shadowed with memories. "riki got tangled up in some bad stuff, y/n. things that don’t go away, things that ruin people. he got in with the wrong crowd—gangs, debts, all kinds of shit. he disappeared from there too and... no one ever really knew what happened. but the rumors started. they said he ran. he left everything behind."
your throat tightens. “but... he didn’t.”
jake’s gaze is heavy, dark. “no. he didn’t. he’s been trying to stay hidden ever since. but some ghosts don’t stay buried, y/n.”
your chest tightens. you’ve been living in the shadow of something you can’t even remember fully. and now it’s back.
───
later that night, you find yourself standing in front of riki’s door, your heart hammering in your chest. you knock once, twice, and wait.
the door opens slowly, and riki stands there, eyes wide, almost guilty. he looks different in the light, darker somehow, worn and tired. but the same fire is still there. it’s still riki.
“you know, don’t you?” he says, his voice tight, like he’s holding something back.
you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “you disappeared. you ran. kept running. and i don’t understand why.”
riki’s eyes flicker with something—pain, maybe. “it’s not that simple. there’s things you don’t know, things i can’t tell you.”
you step closer, ignoring the hesitation in your chest. “i need to know, riki. everything. i need you to tell me.”
his jaw clenches. but then he opens the door wider, his shoulders slumping as he gestures for you to come inside.
you step into his dimly lit apartment, your heart racing. the room feels charged with something unspoken, like the air is holding its breath.
“i didn’t want you to get involved in all of this,” riki says, his voice raw. “but now that you know, i can’t just leave you hanging.”
you take a step forward, your hand trembling as you reach for him, the tension between you unbearable. “you’re not alone in this anymore, riki. i’m here.”
he looks at you, eyes haunted, like he’s trying to decide if he can trust you. then, without warning, his lips crash against yours.
you freeze for a second, the intensity of it taking you by surprise. but then your body reacts, pulling him closer, kissing him back with everything you’ve been holding in. it’s messy, desperate, like neither of you knows what’s happening but can’t stop it.
his hands are everywhere—on your waist, your back, your neck—like he’s trying to memorize you, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
your heart is racing, your body pressed against his, and for a moment, everything feels like it’s on fire.
riki pulls back, his breathing shallow, his forehead resting against yours. the tension between you two is still there, but it's different now — softer, like a thread connecting you in a way neither of you can fully explain.
"y/n," he says, his voice low but intense, trembling slightly. "there are things i never wanted to tell you, things i couldn't bear to say. i thought it would be easier to push you away, to make you hate me before you found out... but i can't do it anymore. i can't keep lying to myself."
you step back a little, your chest tightening as you watch him. his eyes are full of so many emotions—regret, pain, love—but it’s the last one that makes your heart ache with something you didn’t expect.
"i’ve been in this dark place for so long, y/n. i never thought i could get out of it. i pushed everyone away, especially you, because i knew if i let you in, you’d see the mess i am... but you’re the only one who’s ever mattered. i’ve always known it, even when i was too afraid to admit it. i love you."
his words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable. and you feel something inside of you break wide open—something you’ve been trying so hard to protect, trying to hide.
“i’ve always loved you,” riki continues, his voice softer now, almost like he’s confessing a secret that’s been buried for too long. “even when i tried to run from it, even when i tried to push you away... you were always the one. always.”
you can barely find your voice, overwhelmed by the tenderness in his words. "riki, i—"
but he shakes his head, cutting you off gently. "no, listen. i know i’ve hurt you. i know i’ve been distant, but everything i did... i did it because i was scared. scared of losing you. scared of what you’d think of me if you knew everything. but i can’t hide anymore. not from you. i’ve never stopped loving you. not even for a second.”
tears sting the back of your eyes, but you blink them away, letting his confession settle inside you. your heart feels too full, too full of emotions you don’t know how to contain. you take a deep breath, your voice trembling when you finally speak.
“i’m not going anywhere, riki,” you whisper, the words catching in your throat. “i never was. i don’t care about the past... i don’t care about what happened before. i care about you. i’ve always cared about you.”
for a moment, neither of you moves. the world feels so quiet, like everything has stopped, and it’s just the two of you in this space—this moment where everything you’ve both been hiding finally comes to light.
riki steps closer, his hands gently cupping your face, his thumbs brushing over your skin. his eyes are soft now, almost like he’s memorizing every detail of you, like he never wants to forget this moment.
“can i kiss you again?” he asks, his voice so soft, so unsure. it’s like he’s asking for permission, like he’s afraid of making the wrong move.
you nod, your breath catching in your throat. “please,” you whisper.
and then, his lips are on yours, gentle but urgent, like everything he’s held inside of him is pouring into this kiss. his hands slide to your back, pulling you closer, and you melt into him. you kiss him back with everything you’ve been holding onto, everything you’ve been feeling but never knew how to say.
when you pull back, both of you breathless, riki presses his forehead to yours, his hands resting gently on your hips. his eyes are full of that same tenderness, that same love that’s been there all along.
“i love you, y/n,” he whispers again, this time with more certainty, more peace. “and i always will. no matter what.”
and in that moment, you know, without a doubt, that everything—every question, every fear, every hesitation—has been worth it. because now, in this space, with him, everything feels right.
“i love you too, riki,” you say softly, the words more sure now. “i always will.”
and the kiss that follows is more than just passion—it’s a promise.
he breaks the kiss and leads you to his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed. he pulls you onto his lap and crashes his lips against yours once again.
but this kiss, it’s different than the others.
it’s hot. fiery. desperate.
his tongue bullies its way into your mouth, fighting for dominance which you happily give him. as you continue making out, he becomes increasingly handsy. they fly from your jaw, to your shoulder blades, sliding down to rest on your ass. he grips your clothed flesh with desire.
and that's when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness settled between his legs. pressed against your burning hot core.
you gasped into his lips and he swallowed it up eagerly.
he rolled your hips down onto his crotch, seeking friction to ease his hard on. groaning into the kiss, he broke it, tilting his head back.
you carefully observed how his adam’s apple bobbed each time he swallowed, your self control fading into nothing. reaching out to grab his neck, you lightly apply pressure as you leave sloppy, wet kisses all over his jaw. your eyes drop to his collarbones, noticing his hoodie getting in the way.
you shift in his lap, knees sinking further into his bed as your hands find his shoulders for balance. riki looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, lips parted slightly like he’s caught between breath and want. his hoodie is bunched up from where your fingers had tugged at the hem earlier, and when you reach for it again, he doesn’t stop you.
you pull it over his head slowly, your fingers grazing warm skin as the fabric slides up and off. beneath it, he’s wearing a black tank top that clings to him in all the right places—soft cotton stretched over lean muscle, tracing the shape of his chest and the dip of his waist.
his collarbones catch the low light of the room, sharp and defined, leading down to the elegant curve of his neck. you can see the slight rise and fall of it as he swallows, your gaze drifting lower to the sculpted line of his biceps, muscles flexing subtly under your weight, like he’s holding back.
he looks devastating like this—relaxed and bare in a way that feels forbidden, like you’re seeing something no one else is allowed to.
"you’re staring," he says quietly, a flicker of amusement in his voice, but there's a softness to it too, like he doesn’t mind being seen this way. like he wants you to look.
you smile, brushing your fingers across his shoulder, down his arm, feeling the strength beneath the surface. "can you blame me?"
he laughs under his breath, hands settling at your hips, warm and steady. "not really."
you lean in closer, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck, right where it meets his collarbone. he shivers under your touch, and you feel it in your core—how easy it is to fall into him, how right it feels to be here like this.
you push him further on his bed, his back hitting the soft comforter, hands never leaving your hips.
he captures your lips once again in a kiss that's delicate, like he’s trying to process everything but he can’t. are you really here with him right now? his childhood best friend who he forced himself to cut contact with—but then again, did he ever really cut contact with you? he had to make sure you were okay one way or another, so he watched from the shadows. even if it meant sacrificing his greatest love. you.
as if you could sense the gears overheating in his brain, you pull away from him and stare into his familiar brown eyes. he pouts and you see a glimpse of ni-ki. the scared, eight year old who you’d give up anything to protect.
he cradles your face like you’re made of glass and whispers, “are you sure you want this, angel? because once i start… i don’t think i’ll be able to stop.”
you nod your head, but that doesn’t seem to be enough for him, “words, baby. i need words, hmm?” you bite back a flustered smile, “yeah ni-ki, i want this. you.”
he grins hearing his childhood name fall out of your soft, sweet lips and picks you up off his lap so he can rest with his back against the headboard.
settling back on his thighs, and becoming increasingly impatient, you roll your hips against his, surprising him.
he lets out a breathy moan, urging you to continue. you want to hear each of his pretty sounds.
pressing your clothed clit into the tip of his dick, he closes his eyes, biting his lip. you feel him pulsing beneath you, the thin layer of his sweats not doing much to hide his arousal.
neither of you have ever been this turned on just by kissing, heavy petting, and grinding. but neither of you dare to stop. it feels too good, like a craving you’ve subconsciously had.
riki pauses the movement of your hips, being the first one to break this careful, but familiar, tension between you two. “baby, give me a sec. i’m c-close,” he mutters.
wanting to see what he looks like when he finishes, you grin, dragging your hips down harder and slower, in a teasing manner. he groans, but with the same teasing energy, bucks his hips up into yours, allowing you to feel just how big he is—and he knows it, too. judging by your reaction, he can tell it’s been a while since you’ve both been intimate with someone else.
feeling his release closer than he’d say out loud, he takes control of your movements, speeding them up. you can feel how badly he needs this. how desperate he needs you.
the friction of his covered cock rubbing repeatedly on your sensitive clit, feels better than anything you’ve ever tried with others or yourself. you’re both panting, forehead to forehead, when everything comes crashing down. riki releases into his gray sweats, making a mess. he swears he’s never cum that hard. and your panties get increasingly sticky and uncomfortable.
basking in the aftermath of your shared orgasm, riki gently holds you by the waist, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. lots of “you did great,” “that felt so good, baby,” and a lot of whining. “i need you so bad,” “please, angel, i’ll make you feel so so good.”
who are you to deny your first and only love?
you slowly stand on wobbly legs, stripping, giving riki a show.
he gawks as you remove each item of clothing, starting with your shirt. he’s surprised you aren’t wearing a bra but when your perky tits come into his eyesight, he’s right in front of you. grabbing—licking—whatever’s closest to his mouth and hands.
feeling a bit exposed, while he’s still fully clothed, you whimper into his mouth, silently asking him to take his clothes off as well.
speeding up the process, he rips his tank top off and finally. finally. you get a glimpse of what he always hides under his baggy hoodies. sculpted by the greek gods, you nearly drool at his defined torso. reaching out to drag a hand down his abs, riki shivers at your gentle, yet burning, touch.
you back him up so he sits on his bed and slowly sink to your knees. he leans back on his palms, quiet, but watching you like a hawk. you bring a hand up to cup his bulge, not caring about the sticky stain he’s left.
he groans, low, hot, and it goes straight to your wetness, practically leaking on his floor.
with your hands gripping his waistband, you look up into his dark eyes, clouded with lust, and he nods lifting his hips. yanking his sweats down, you’re met with his hard cock, slapping his abs. “no boxers, huh?” you smugly ask, as if he anticipated this. “nah, not when i’m relaxing, sweetheart.” sweetheart. the name he called you the last day you saw him as kids.
staring at his flushed cock, you lick your lips, ready to devour the man sitting in front of you.
you start by gripping his base, your fingers not fully wrapping around him. how the fuck are you supposed to fit him inside your mouth? a problem you’ve never faced, but for riki? you’d be stupid not to choke on it.
giving his tip sweet little kitten licks, you dig your tongue into his slit, as if you were trying to drink up all his precum. “fuck,” he grunts out, hoping you didn’t discover how sensitive he was at his tip.
he thinks you didn’t, but he should really know better.
you focus all your attention on his swollen head, sucking softly and jerking off the rest of his lengthy dick. his back falls flat, resting on his bed, while he lets out a symphony of moans.
abruptly, you pull off him and when he leans up on his elbows to see why, he’s met with the sight of spit falling from your lips, landing right on his tip. then, his vision goes white.
you lean down, shoving him in your mouth, lips stretched around his girth.
you take him halfway, and the stretch alone is painful already. knowing this might be an issue, riki speaks up, “fuck, you don’t have to take all of me, this already feels so—” but you cut him off, when you sink your mouth further, his tip hitting your throat.
you swallow around him and he whimpers. he’s never felt anything like this before.
when he’s tried to hook up with girls in the past, they normally gave up after a minute of trying to unhinge their jaw to please him.
but with you? he should’ve known you’d be the one to make him proud.
noticing how surprised he is, you start bobbing your head up and down, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.
it’s messy, wet, and loud. but neither of you care. not when riki is whimpering beneath you so prettily.
his tip repeatedly slams into the back of your throat, making you gag but it just turns him on more. his thighs start to tense and he knows he’s close to his second orgasm.
feeling him twitch in your mouth, you hollow your cheeks and ignore the tears streaming down your face. only focused on his pleasure. you know exactly what will push him over the edge, so you bring your mouth up his cock, lips wrapped carefully around his tip.
swirling your tongue around it, occasionally focusing on his slit, you bring one hand up to his balls and the other to wrap around his base, applying pressure to the vein running along his shaft.
one second later, your mouth gets flooded with his sticky, hot cum. rope after rope shooting from his enlarged tip. his dick is pulsing in your mouth and his cum never ends. it’s spilling out of your mouth onto the floor, but you try and swallow everything you can, not wanting to waste even a drop.
his chest is rapidly rising and falling when you pull off of him with a pop. you wipe your mouth with the sleeve of your shirt and smile sweetly at him, acting like you didn’t just suck him so good his soul left his body.
“damn, baby, didn’t know you wanted me that bad.” he says through a smirk. “calm down nishimura, i could’ve filled up a gallon of water with how much you came,” you bite back. he just looks at your tear stained cheeks and a sense of pride swells in his chest.
while he’s lost in his thoughts, you stand up, knees bruised from his hardwood floor.
glancing between his legs, you notice he’s still hard. how much cum does he have for you? you wonder, taking off your jeans and panties in one go.
now that you’re both fully naked, riki gets up off his bed and approaches you, holding one of your hands. he spins you around, taking in your fully nude body for the first time.
noticing his staring, you open your mouth, “are you just gonna stare or fuck me?”
smoothly, he leads you to lie down on his bed, “patience, princess, be good for me while i take care of you, yeah?” oh you’re gone already.
he leans down to kiss you and your hands find his nape, gently grabbing the hair trailing down his neck.
you mistook riki for an ass guy, when his fascination with your tits makes you break the kiss. he’s sucking gently on your right nipple, his free hand finding your left boob.
moaning gently, you tip your head back into his pillow that smells like comfort, and something musky, but it’s something extremely riki. you instinctively arch into his touch, bare core desperately grinding into the air of his bedroom, desperate for friction.
he senses your neediness, bringing his stiff cock down to rub between your soaked folds. his tip catches your clit, eliciting soft whimpers from your parted lips. using your slick as lube, he lines himself up, stopping before he goes further. “condom?” he sweetly asks. you whisper, under your breath, “n-no, i’m on birth—,” however, you don’t get to answer him when you feel his tip slide into your awaiting hole.
both moaning in relief, he stays with just his tip in, preparing you for the stretch that’s about to come. you relax a bit, a signal for him to push a bit further, cutting off his action with a loud moan.
it’s better than any porn he could dream of, and he’s only about two inches in. the sheer girth of him alone makes it feel like he’s splitting you open in the best way possible.
you look down, thinking he’s halfway in, when in reality, he’s about a fourth of the way inside you. meeting his eyes, he senses your nerves, bringing a hand down to rub your sensitive bundle of nerves.
it helps distract you from the pain, allowing him to slide half way in. he groans at the sensation of your warm, wet walls, engulfing his aching cock. “baby, you gotta relax… you’re s’tight,” he drunkenly mumbles. you can only whimper in response, exhaling as you try to calm down.
once your breathing has returned to a normal state, riki slowly pushes in more, but it all comes to a halt when you wrap your legs around his torso, pulling him all the way in.
he moans, caught off guard, guessing your patience snapped like a thin wire.
as his thick length rests inside you, you can’t help but let out a string of moans, incoherently babbling about how big he feels, and how deep he’s reaching.
“f-fuck. baby, please, can—can i move?” he forces out. you hum in agreement.
he slowly pulls out until only his tip is sheathed inside your warm pussy, then pushes back in all the way. your eyes roll into the back of your head, “fuck. s—s’big, riks.” his pace steadily increases until he notices how your boobs bounce with each thrust he gives you.
he brings his head down, lips wrapping around one of the perky budd, giving you even more pleasure than you knew what to do with.
loud moans grace his ears, the only other sound being skin slapping.
his attention is dragged back to your face when one of your hands reaches for his and brings it up to your neck. his pace falters for a bit until his face contorts, realization dawning over his lust filled features. “oh? does my baby wanna be choked? dirty slut.” you nod in response.
feeling the pressure of his cold ring clad fingers wrapping around your burning flesh, you let out a sigh of relief, the tension in your tummy building at a rapid pace.
riki suddenly pulls out of you, flipping you on all fours, placing a pillow under your stomach. he drags your hips up, kneading the plumpness of your ass. he slams back into you, reaching even deeper in your guts, as he hovers over your back.
“you like feelin’ me this deep, hm?” he takes your hand and places it over the bump you feel with every thrust. your noises are muffled by his bed, which ticks him off—he wants to hear every sound that slips through your mouth. noticing that you liked things a bit rough, he pulls your hair, bringing you flush against the hardness of his chest.
he stills inside you, letting you feel every inch, twitch, and pulse. he’s holding off his orgasm for as long as he can, but he’s not sure how long he can last when you keep clenching around him.
he knows it’s unintentional, but it feels too good, he just needs a second.
you can feel him breathing down your neck when you begin to move. he tries stopping you, but to no avail, you start bouncing on his stiffened cock.
“f-fuck. gonna—cum,” he moans when he attempts to pull out. you push him back down, needing to feel him fill you up. “no. inside,” is all you can muster when he makes a sound of confusion.
slowly gaining confidence, you turn around, and flip him over so you’re on top of him.
flustered by the change in positions, riki gasps when you start to move. his hand finds your clit, rubbing in tight circles.
the band in your stomach starts building, fueling both of your desperation.
your orgasm comes crashing down in waves, pushing riki to buck his hips up, fucking you through it. “that’s it, baby, let it out. c’mon, be a good girl f’me and make a mess,” he mutters out, wanting to prolong your pleasure for as long as he can.
as you cum, your walls uncontrollably clench around his dick, making it harder for him to slide in and out. he starts to chase his own high, gently placing your head back on his pillow and picking up your legs to rest on his shoulders.
he pistons in and out of you, mind hazy, consumed with the need to cum inside of you.
groaning, he stills in your abused cunt, flooding you with the gift of his cum. each pulse, you clench around his hard cock, milking him dry.
he’s on cloud nine, feeling the way you’re taking everything he could possibly offer you.
just as he thinks he’s nearing the end of his high, you whisper in a sultry voice, “you’re still hard, riks,” which makes his skin flush a deep red. his balls tighten and somehow a couple more ropes of cum shoot into your womb. he doesn’t know what you do to him, “take it out on me, baby, i can’t imagine how pent up you must be…” and that does it for him.
wanting to try something new, he straddles your torso, pushing your plush tits together. he aligns his sensitive cock between the flesh and slowly slides through. you stick your tongue out, trying to lick his tip each time it peeks between your boobs.
his cock is nearly too thick for your tits to wrap around him, but he doesn’t care. the sight is more than enough for him to finish.
he’s already close.
the sensitivity gets to him when you begin to hold your tits together, giving him an unobstructed view of you. each time your tongue laps at his slit, he feels himself growing closer to the high he so badly craves.
what really does it for him, is when you spit between your breasts, further lubing his cock. with a low, drawn-out moan, he paints your tits and face with his cum. the sight is too much, his balls go into overdrive, pulsing out more and more ropes of his white, messy load.
your mouth hangs open, wanting to taste more of the salty substance. he thinks you’re perfect.
he collapses on top of you, feeling spent and tired. it’s only when you whine about the stickiness between your legs, on your boobs, and on your face that he gets out of bed, rushing to his bathroom.
he makes his way back over to you with a warm washcloth, and the softest touch you’ve ever felt. he gently cleans the mess he made, only now realizing how much cum he gave you.
and you took all of it. his good girl.
once he’s done wiping away his mess, he picks you up bridal style, heading back to his bathroom. to your surprise, he drew you a bath, with scented candles—lavender. he remembered your favorite.
he helps you into the tub, climbing in behind you. he shampoos your hair, conditions it, and even washes your body with such care, it brings tears to your eyes.
after many hushed whispers, he drains the bathtub, helping you dry off and get into your (his) clothes.
you both get back into his bed, snuggled against one another, riki’s embrace wrapped around you warmer than any blanket could provide.
“riki?” you whisper, afraid to shatter the delicate silence. he hums in response. “please don’t leave me again,” you say trembling, a silent tear slipping down your cheek.
he turns you to face him, “hey, hey, hey, baby, i’m right here. and i know what i did was shitty, you deserved an explanation. but. i couldn’t let you get caught up in what i was doing. it was risky, i couldn’t be what you deserve,” he croaks out, tears wetting his lashes. now it was your turn to comfort him, “oh my riki,” you cooed, cradling his face.
“you did what you had to do, but what’s important is that you’re here now. with me. okay?” you plant the softest kiss on his plump lips. “okay,” he says with a small smile.
you don’t let go. neither does he. his hands stay on your waist, tentative but needing, like he’s still trying to memorize the feel of you. your fingers linger against his jaw, your thumb brushing the damp skin beneath his eye. there’s silence between you, but it’s no longer heavy—just full. thick with everything that couldn’t be said before.
his lips brush against yours again—slower this time, deeper. like a question. and an answer. you lean in, the way you sigh into him. it’s not desperate, not rushed. it’s reverent.
when he pulls back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath is shaky. “i missed you,” he whispers, voice barely audible. “missed you so much i forgot how to breathe without it hurting.”
you cup his face in both hands now, heart aching in the best way. “i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.”
and then you kiss him again—like a vow sealed in warmth and want. like a beginning.
reblog if u enjoyed this! and comment or send an ask to be part of my perm taglist <3
[ @jaeyuniversal ] prod. 250419
the Heeseung fic ‘you broke me first’ got me on my knees like….😮💨🫠😩🤗🫣🤩😌🥹🙇🏽♀️🧎🏽♀️
Hoping to have more Hee fics from youuuuuuuuu🙏🏼🫶🏼 (but ofc the rest of en- members too)🤩
THANK YOU OMG it was my first time writing in a long time im so glad you enjoyed it ◡̈ <3
park sunghoon — THE PUSSY EATING COMPETITION!
P. munch!sunghoon x fem!reader (17+) | W. pussy eating (obv), squirting, oral, unprotected sex, cursing, multiple orgasms, munches jakehoon + munchwon , freakseung, subspace, biting, other shit i forgot | WC. 5.7k !! | A,N. this one’s for my babychels ! @ak4e7a ♡ … would anyone like a drabble about heeseung’s experience?
in which… jake convinces sunghoon to join a pussy eating competition with a bet !
“you want me to join the what?” sunghoon questioned, his thick eyebrows furrowed, plump lips parted in confusion.
“the pussy eating competition, bro!” jake rolled his eyes as he repeated his sentence for the third time already. reaching over to flick a concerned looking sunghoon’s forehead.
“and why the fuck would i join whatever the fuck that is?” he smacked jake’s hand away when the stinging pain rushed in his head. cursing jake more under his breath. “why the fuck not?” he huffed, “heeseung was at it yesterday, he won his stupid bet with jay.”
“they had a bet?” sunghoon closed his laptop, deciding that whatever notes he was about to take from their lecture can wait until he figures out if jake is being serious or not. “yeah, dude. jay bet heeseung fifty bucks if he could make his girl squirt three times in ten minutes.” jake chuckled at the memory.
“and heeseung won?” sunghoon questioned, eyebrows raised in anticipation this time as jake’s smile only widened. “won the bet in eight minutes and twenty six seconds.” he laughed, sunghoon wasn’t surprised or shocked in any way. he was surprised at jay’s idiocy of choosing ‘ten minutes’ when all heeseung has been doing since he got laid was boast about his squirting ability in their group chat.
and heeseung called himself ‘the pussy squirting fairy’ way too often for their liking.
and besides who even came up with this stupid competition in the first place? who even agreed to any of this? why did heeseung and jay join? and why the fuck was jake asking him to join too?
“listen bro it’s nothing serious— you go to the pussy eating competition center and ask to join in for a competition with someone— in that case that will be me, and then we’ll get to eat some fire pussy out for free so it’s really just a huge win situation.” jake rambled, balancing between his two feet as he continued to convince sunghoon to join in with him.
“we could even place a bet like hyung and jay did! ten minutes for three squirts is a good deal you know? it’s just that heeseung is a fucking frea—“ jake’s voice slowly got tuned out of sunghoon’s ear as he thought about this more.
considering all the possibilities of this competition that still sounded pretty unreal to him, was this a stupid idea? yes. should he trust jake? no. did he not believe this idea because it sounded like a dream? yes. was the last time that sunghoon got offered pussy around three months ago? unfortunately, yes. did he currently feel like a loser teenage boy with his pants tightening at the thought of eating pussy? … also yes.
but was this an opportunity for him to live up to his ‘certified munch hoon’ title though? yes. and was sunghoon going to take it? fuck yes.
“you could also tap out at any minute—“ “where can i apply?” sunghoon interrupted jake’s irritating speech. “it’s not tha— huh?” his eyes widened in surprised, “you want to join?” he tilted his head to the side in a puppy like manner, a twinkle of excitement in his gaze. “you said you were going to join too, right?” sunghoon eyed him warily, a wave of relief washing down on him when jake nodded with enthusiasm.
“you also said we could place bets, yeah?” he questioned, “yes! like the ten minutes for three squirts hyung mad—“ “make it five.” jake gaped at him, blinking his eyes in surprise. “what?”
his hand came up to rest on sunghoon’s shoulder as he tried to process his words, “five minutes?” his gaze became conflicted as the younger nodded, “five minutes for three?” jake tried to understand him more, really trying his best.
“five minutes for five squirts.” jake gulped.
“for a hundered bucks.”
well fuck.
sunghoon was on a mission.
wearing a white, sleeveless shirt along with jeans to make his movements easier, the shirt given to him by jake in order to ‘tell apart who got the more squirts’ according to the wetness that coated the white fabric.
he was now standing in line with jake, the shorter one walking with a slight bounce in his step from his excitement. “are you ready?” he whispered, eyes travelling all over the place where the competition was held.
countless other contestants from both genders aligned in the waiting line, each pair waiting their own turn, some going neck to neck with other friends and placing bets while others threw snarky glances at each other.
truly a competition for some.
“do we atleast get to pick who we get to eat out?” the taller sighed, his ebony locks sticking further to his temples due to his sweat, it was either unreasonably hot or sunghoon was weirdly nervous.
probably unreasonably hot. it was mid july after all.
“i don’t think so.. i didn’t ask hyung—“ “obviously no.” a foreign voice cut off jake, making the two turn around to greet another guy. that was also wearing a white shirt.
“it’s a competition. you don’t get to choose who you get to eat out.” he rolled his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing. god what an obnoxious attitude.
sunghoon rolled his eyes, “pipe the fuck down, jungwon. we get it you practically live here.” jake snapped back. running his fingers through his hair while he turned around. he looked unusually restless for sunghoon’s liking.
i mean, there was a whole hundred dollar bill on the table for this bet.
“park sunghoon and sim jaeyun! you’re up next.” the same guy who jotted down their names in his board, who sunghoon assumed was the manager— called both of their names up to the front.
where sunghoon wasn’t prepared to have his breath knocked out of his lungs so quickly.
as he and jake stepped up the smal staircase leading to the mini stage where two chairs were situated, there sat two girls. very very pretty girls. dreamlike pretty girls. one hundred percent sunghoon’s type. really really pretty gir—
“stop fucking staring like a creep.” jake elbowed him when he realised that sunghoon was basically two seconds away from drooling at the sight of you. sunghoon covered his awkward staring with a strained cough. lowering his head and unknowingly bringing attention to his reddening ears.
which at the sight of, you chuckled.
and sunghoon’s knees almost buckled.
“take your respective positions and be prepared.” the manager, who sunghoon caught a brief glance at the name tag of— mark. ordered them around. sunghoon stepped closer towards you. who stared at him with the most alluring glint in your eyes. you were wearing a pink top with pink lace panties that were covered by a feather light towel. don’t ask how he noticed them.
“hi.. i’m sunghoon.” he spoke awkwardly, extending out his hand towards yours. finding his demeanour adorable, you quickly shook his hand. a smile gracing your features as you introduced yourself to him.
three months shouldn’t be that much time since he got with a girl but it felt like it was centuries ago. especially with the way his heart began to thump thump thump! between his ribs weirdly.
he spared a swift glance to jake, just in time to catch him throwing a flirtatious wink towards his own girl. goodness that dude was a freak himself.
“spare the introductions and get into your positions, what was your bet again?” mark quickly muttered, glancing at the paper in his hand and back at jake and sunghoon. pushing his glasses above the bridge of his nose.
“a hundred bucks.” jake spoke, puffing out his chest in anxiety, “and that’s for ten minutes right? three orgasms in ten?” mark nodded as he wrote down the timing on his paper.
“no actually… it’s five minutes.” jake bit his lips, sunghoon shook his head in slight disbelief and embarrassment at the current situation they were in right now. totally ignoring the fact that there were two drop dead gorgeous girls whispering and giggling right behind them both.
“five minutes for three?” mark questioned, his eyebrows raising in surprise that increased when sunghoon quickly shook his head in denial, “five minutes for five.” mark blinked.
a slight echoing line of ooo’s made their way into jake and sunghoon’s reddened ears, embarrassment crawling up their backs as mark awkwardly cleared his throat and nodded to their words. quickly changing the numbers on the timer and scribbling a few other random sentences on his board.
“we’ll shortly start the timer and the competition will begin.” he stepped back allowing the two to inch back towards the girls, jake spared a quick glance at mark who was now holding onto the alarm clock between his fingers before lowering down to his knees in front of the chair.
sunghoon swiftly followed suit, dropping onto his knees and lifting his head right between your legs to welcome the heavenly view. gosh you looked divine.
“five for five, hm?” you cheekily smiled at him, a sight that made the boy’s heart throb with the sudden need to always make you smile. he nodded shyly, his slightly wavy locks ruffling in his hair in a fluffy manner at the motion. “better not disappoint.” you then discarded the towel to the ground.
“oh i for sure won’t.” sunghoon smirked, a wave of confidence descending on him at the sight of your soaked cunt so close to his face, he could practically taste your leaking essence from the side of your panties.
“on your marks..” the young manager called out, sunghoon skilfully pulled apart your plush thighs, placing your legs on top of his shoulders as jake did the same besides him. you quickly laid back towards the table behind you on your elbows, giving sunghoon full access to anything and everything.
“get set..” mark called out, eyes glued on the button that will start the timer while sunghoon pushed the tip of his nose against your slit, the contact making you hum in delight as his tip pressed against your throbbing clit while your essence soaked through the thin fabric and onto his skin.
he poked his tongue out just slightly, brushing against your sopping hole restricted by the lace fabric that began to slightly irritate him, and sunghoon was gone.
pineapples. cotton candy. cranberries. straight sugar. you tasted otherworldly. it was not surprising that you would taste delicious as you probably do take care of yourself to the best of your ability because of this competition, but for you to taste this dizzying? to have an essence and nectar that melted against his tastebuds like honey?
sunghoon was gone.
“go!” and just like that, sunghoon’s brain was replaced by a horny puddle of mush inside of his skull. unaware of the fact that he pushed and teared your panties to the side, aiming to lick a long, tantalising stripe starting from your hole till he reached your clit where he applied pressure.
the action made your hand shoot towards his head, gripping a handful of his soft hair in your hands as his tongue circled and pushed against your sensitive nub, his large fingers pried your thighs apart when they began to push against him. normally, sunghoon wouldn’t mind getting suffocated by plush and soft thighs like this. yet today, he couldn’t lose a hundered dollar bill against jake. out of all people.
and fucking jake was going at it next to him. making all sorts of wet noises that had his girl throwing her head back in pleasure. while the timer struck twenty five seconds.
fuck, he only had thirty five seconds left for the first minute.
that’s when sunghoon decided to let go of all of his restraints, allowing all the walls he kept to crumble right apart when he pushed your legs around his head, one hand holding your leg to keep your pressed against him as you needed the extra support while the other pushed his middle and ring finger deep inside of you.
a squeal left your mouth when sunghoon attached his plump lips around your clit. sucking and slurping so loudly, obscene noises followed by your moans and the ticking of the timer barely made their way past sunghoon’s ringing ears. he was completely out of it.
he thrusted his finger in and out. quickly in and out. too busy closing his eyes to savour your flavour on his tongue to take notice of the multiple webs of wetness that connected his knuckles and your entrance. his fingers reached so deep, they were so long and the perfect size to cause the most delicious burn in your walls as he stretched them open.
right when the timer hit forty seconds, sunghoon’s fingertip brushed against your sweet spot.
you mewled his name, back arching off of the table as he hummed in delight at the realisation, “found it, didn’t i? it’s right. here.” he accentuated every word with another thrust against the spot that had you seeing stars. you nodded mindlessly as the knot in your abdomen curled on itself the longer sunghoon abused your cunt.
“f-fuck yes! right there, baby. right there.” you encouraged him, moans increasing in volume the harsher sunghoon sucked around your clit, his fingers became even more restless after the sudden petname. baby. that’s right, he was your baby. the only one that will please you from now on.
“yeah, pretty girl? feels good doesn’t it?” sunghoon spoke against your clit, each word sending a vibration right against your spine as pleasure raked through your body in rough waves. it suddenly felt like you were the only two in the world. your surroundings melting in an instant as you gasped his name and praised him for making you feel so good. so ecstatic.
fifty seconds in, and that’s when the coil in your abdomen suddenly snapped.
your climax washed over you out of nowhere, such an intense and speedy build up that you weren’t even able to process anything till you started to shake under sunghoon’s hold. your wetness was dripping down his forearm as he fucked you through your orgasm, each thrust of his finger made your squirt land over his shirt.
first sixty seconds was a complete and easy success.
“first minute is done! one point for sunghoon, and one point for jaeyun.” mark called out. shit, so that fucker also managed to keep up with him then?
he still had four minutes to redeem himself. with the way he was able to easily make you squirt from the first fifty seconds he felt like he knew your body inside out. knew exactly which buttons to push and what nerve to pull to coax out another orgasm out of you. there was no way he was losing.
“minute two starting now!” mark’s voice reached sunghoon’s ears in a muffled manner as he pressed your twitching legs closer to his shoulders, this time sunghoon pushed his long tongue inside of your gushing hole. a lustful glint in his eyes as he reached his slender fingers towards your clit.
rubbing slow, torturous but powerful circles on your aching nub while he licked all over your walls, slurping against your wetness that leaked down his chin and made its way down his neck, fuck he was so addicted to your flavour.
your moans became weaker as your body tried to calm down from your previous orgasm, such a mind blowing climax washing down on your body so suddenly made your head spin. and sunghoon was already overstimulating you as he worked towards another orgasm. fuck. you, yourself were done for under him.
he felt so good. so skilled as he satisfied and pleasured you in ways you’ve never felt before. his strong, muscular arms keeping your legs open as he buried his face so mindlessly between them, diving into your wetness with no other care in the world as if he was born to do this.
he lived to devour pussy. truly suitable for a competition like this.
“gonna give me another one hm?” twenty nine seconds.
“think you can handle another one, babydoll?” he taunted, barely pulling out his tongue to speak before burying it back inside of you, his fingers never halting to a stop as they began to pinch and pull at your clit. the familiar tightening in your lower stomach made your mind reel while your silence began to frustrate sunghoon.
that’s when he landed a harsh slap against your clit. the sudden pain and pleasure making you jolt under his hold as you nearly screamed out his name. “y-yes, yes i can! please, i’ll give you as many as you want!” you cried out, your broken begs rushing directly into his aching cock in the confines of his jeans. exactly what he needed to hear.
“what a good fucking girl, hm? such a good girl for me, aren’t ya?” he mocked, hand resorting back to circling on your clit as he buried himself in your folds, his nose brushed up against his fingers while he thrusted his tongue in and out of you stimulating you in the best ways possible.
thirty seven seconds was all it took for sunghoon to make you squirt on him for the second time. in the span of a minute and a half.
he slapped against your leaking hole while you convulsed beneath him, each slap getting his shirt wetter which signalled mark to announce “minute two half way done, two points for sunghoon and one for jaeyun!”
jake’s noise of surprised went unnoticed by sunghoon, almost half way in. he thought to himself as he lifted your limp legs off of his shoulders and balanced himself on his knees again.
he pressed your legs together, making your swollen, glistening folds puff up one each other while your nectar slipped out of your hole in heavy, clear droplets. sunghoon wanted to do nothing more than to slurp it all up.
without wasting anymore time, he pushed his mouth against your cunt, kissing up against your folds as the timer showcased fifty seconds, as cocky as this might sound but he already knew he won. especially when he inhaled your scent deeply and pushed his nose and mouth onto your entrance again. successful in making you scream his name this time.
he held your shaking legs up with one hand, grip strong and tight as he relished in your flavour running down his throat. so addicted as he ate you out like a drunk man. completely high on your pussy. he sucked and licked and kissed everywhere so noisily.
sucking up your swollen and sensitive folds into his mouth, coating every inch of your skin in his saliva that combined with your own wetness before returning to slurp around your clit. his mind was reeling. becoming a mushy piece of muscle in his head as the only thought that drove him to continue was to make you squirt again.
“minute three starting now, with two points to sunghoon and two points to jaeyun. yet another tie!” fuck, jake was catching up.
but sunghoon for some reason was starting to not mind.. call it the euphoria of getting high off of pussy or anything else. he no longer wanted to do this to beat jake and win a hundred dollars. he wanted to do this because it felt good. you felt good.
and just like that, he began to indulge himself in your cunt entirely. surrendering and making his rational side disappear as he hummed and moaned at your taste. shaking his head from side to side as he slurped you up so well. drooling your essence further down his chin as he pleasured you because it was his own pleasure.
each moan of his sent shocks around you body. your surroundings blurring as the air around you became electrified. goosebumps aligning your skin when you felt another climax building up gradually in your abdomen. the longer he spent humming around your clit and buzzing up your whole body the further you felt your consciousness slipping away from your fingertips.
guess you couldn’t really handle it after all.
it was at three minutes and fifteen seconds when sunghoon made you squirt for the third time.
your hands shot to grip onto the chair that was by now shaking with your body, hot white ecstasy blinding your vision as your climax washed down on your body in violent waves one after the other. and sunghoon just kept going. noisily slurping up everything you offered. he was being so embarrassingly loud as he kept rubbing his face into your cunt, getting your wetness all over his face and jaw. overstimulating you more with each passing second while your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
“three minutes and twenty seconds in! three points for sunghoon and two for jake!” mark announced, his voice becoming unusually strained as the sight of the two men on their knees doing their best to pleasure their girls was starting to get to him.
it was his least favourite part of his job when he started to feel a tightening in his pants.
“so good for me, doll. we only need two more, come on. you can give it to me right?” you nodded with your head spinning. a dizzying sense of pleasure raking through your veins. sunghoon settled down for gentle bites across your thighs, giving you a few moments to cool down as he looked up.
big mistake.
the sight of you had one of his hands shooting down towards his raging boner that began uncontrollably twitching between his boxers. your pretty pink tank top ridden up revealing the underside of the plush skin of your breasts, a sheen layer of sweat coating your body as you breathed in deeply to calm your heart down when it felt like it was seconds away from bursting.
your fucked out expression is what did it for him. eyes hazed and high off pleasure. drunk on the feeling of his plump lips on your swollen cunt that tightened around nothing. sunghoon was so fucked.
“so needy for me isn’t she..?” he whispered only for you to hear, fascinated in the way your gaping hole winked at him. spilling out more of your sweet nectar that became sunghoon’s favourite drug in the matter of a few minutes. you grew flustered at his words, lifting your arm up t cover your eyes while sunghoon blew on your pussy teasingly.
discarding the competition and the fact that there were people around him, sunghoon quickly lifted himself up, leaning his body forward above yours as he began to hover on top of you. your breath hitched at the close proximity while sunghoon smiled adorably, showcasing you his pretty fangs that were sinking down your thighs just a few seconds ago.
“ready to give me another one, little girl?” he whispered. so so close to your face that his wet lips that were covered in your essence brushed against yours with every word. you nodded shyly, slowly getting fucked into subspace as your mind began to shut down. eyes blinking slowly while sunghoon pushed his long fingers back inside of you. gosh you were so cute.
three minutes and thirty two seconds in, and you were gripping onto sunghoon’s bicep that pushed his fingers inside of you deeper.
you were mewling and whimpering his name so prettily. so perfect and delicate under him. under his control allowing him to do anything with your body and it was driving him crazy. he couldn’t hold himself back when he finally pushed his lips against yours.
you moaned so endearingly under him. kissing him back so eagerly as his fingertip massaged your sweet spot making you bite gently on his lower lip. he groaned into your mouth as he fucked his fingers quicker. hitting all your spots with each thrust and making you see stars while he sucked on the tip of your tongue.
he didn’t care that he could be breaking rules right now. did not give a singular flying fuck that mark could be looking around confused wondering if this was accepted. and certainly did not even mind when jake scored his third point. all he wanted and needed right now was for you to cum for him as many times as possible. he needed to feel you tightening as your euphoria made you fall apart in his hold. it was a pleasure that he got addicted to.
“you close baby? feeling good hm?” he didn’t even need you to respond to him. not when your cunt was doing all the talking by clenching and drooling down his wrist. sucking in three of his fingers in so deeply he could only imagine how incredible you would feel around his cock, but in reality he shouldn’t imagine that right now. not when his dick was about to practically rip apart his boxers.
“s’close hoon.. so so close!” you blabbered, brain completely shutting down as you couldn’t tell apart your orgasm and overstimulation anymore. all you could feel and process was the unbelievable amount of pure ecstatic pleasure rushing throughout your whole body so wonderfully that it had you digging your nails into his back. your legs going numb under you as your knot tightened and tightened for the fourth time. almost done.
“come on, babydoll. cum for me like the good girl that you are.” he whispered against your neck and that was enough for you to squirt around his fingers again. he kept fucking into you, riding out your orgasm as your throat was no longer able to produce any noises, only soft whispers of pleads reaching sunghoon’s ear as he scored his fourth point easily.
he kissed along your jawline when he stilled his fingers inside of you, “please what, pretty girl?” he asked, already having a fleeting wild thought in his head that he discarded because he might actually lose his sanit— “i need your cock please. please for the last one, please fuck me.” holy fuck.
“three minutes and fifty six seconds in! four points for sunghoon and three for jaey— why are you taking your pants o?—“ mark’s voice became unreasonably loud towards the end but sunghoon was on a mission.
five squirts is five squirts. a hundred dollar bill is a hundred dollar bill. he’s not about to lose any of this because he didn’t push his cock into a pretty little hole like yours. no he was about to make his win a double win.
sunghoon pushed down both his jeans and boxers down in one go, his leaking cock springing out the tight pieces of fabric with multiple lines of precum dribbling down to his balls, thick mushroom tip that’s a fiery red throbbing in need and desire while your swollen hole gaped at him.
yeah he was gonna lose if he didn’t fuck you for sure.
“you ready, doll?” he asked as if he hadn’t spent the past few minutes stretching you out so nicely. you nodded so eagerly at his words. mouth watering at the sight of his veiny, thick cock pulsating so deliciously in front of you. he was so big. such a perfect size for stretching you out more.
he pushed the head of his cock in and god was he huge. you gasped around his lips when he gave you a few seconds to adjust before pushing his entire length in, bottoming out quicker than anticipated, but sunghoon didn’t care.
he couldn’t care less about the fact that he was fucking you in front of random people right now. why should he care when he knew he was going to bring you home by the end of the day and slither his way into your life after this? in fact, people should be glad because this will be the last time you’ll be seen here.
because he’s planning on having you in strawberry pink lingeries between his silky satin sheets for the rest of his life.
so technically, everyone should be glad they’re getting a show of you both right now. because it’ll be the last one.
“so deep hoon.. so fuckin’ deep..” you mewled, eyes shutting in pleasure when he slightly pulled out, barely by an inch before he thrusted back in. he felt the way your warm walls pulsed around his cock needily. sucking him back in with each movement as if they were not allowing him to pull out at all. so needy and so desperate to have something, anything to plug up your slutty hole.
“feeling good, pretty girl?” he asked, lowering his hand to press on the evident bulge that appeared on your lower stomach. the feeling made the two of you groan in pleasure, sunghoon was fleeting through cloud nine. he couldn’t believe how he went on with his life for so many years without spending each passing inside your cunt. so many time wasted when he could’ve been drunk on the heaven between your legs.
“s’good! so good, hoon.” gasping out the new petname that had his eyes rolling back, he glanced at the timer that was held by a flustered mark, palming his raging boner through his pants and noticed “four minutes and twenty nine seconds.” yeah the game was his. he won.
he switched his position, balancing himself back on his legs as he gripped your thighs, wrapping them around his waist while he sunk his cock in deeper. relishing in the sight of you throwing your head back when he penetrated you so good. the tip of his dick kissing against your cervix harshly. and just like that, he began to pound inside of you.
your unrestrained moans tumbled past your lips at his harsh thrusts. body being lit ablaze with mind numbing pleasure that enlivened every part of you. a different, never felt before kind of thrill rushed through your being. a fervent sensation that you’ve never experienced, one only brought to you by sunghoon as he continued to fuck you. determined on making you crumble completely around his cock.
and his wish was about to be granted with the way your abdomen began to tighten. exhaustion creeping up on you along with an almost scary build up of your climax. you were about to get knocked out with this one and you felt it.
“come on, angel. give me another one. the final one, i know you can do it, doll.” he encouraged, pressing his hand on his bulge that disappeared and appeared with every one of his thrusts, his large hand applying the perfect amount of pressure to have your head spin again. seconds away from cumming on his cock for the first time. his tip pressed and massaged all of your spots perfectly. “it’s right here, isn’t it? this is where you’re weak for me.” he chuckled.
you were slowly losing consciousness at this rate, body burning with euphoria that flashed through your limbs. “f-fuck i’m s’close! hoon— fuck!” you screamed his name as you felt your pleasure crashing down on you for the fifth time. walls tightening and clenching mercilessly making sunghoon hiss in pain while you squirted all over his abdomen.
the pressure from your orgasm made it hard for him to thrust back, but he continued. “and five points for sunghoon! at four minutes and fifty one seconds! park sunghoon is the winner of the pussy eating competition!” a new voice cheered from behind him, one that belonged to a taller manager that appeared since mark had to leave for a quick and ‘urgent’ bathroom break, making his best friend, johnny announce the winner.
but did the winner in question care right now? not really.
ignoring jake’s protests of disappointment and the sounds of his girl comforting him and finding him being upset adorable, also ignoring jake’s yells of shock and disbelief when he looked over and realised that sunghoon was currently balls deep inside of his girl. “i didn’t know you could literally fuck?!” he practically screamed at johnny as his girl tried to hold him back from jumping the taller guy.
yet all of this, went unnoticed by both you and sunghoon. who was now chasing his own pleasure inside of your divine pussy that kept trying to push him out while your back arched in his hold, pushing your chest against his as your body shook with complete overstimulation. he buried himself so deep inside of you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he hugged you when he pressed his tip against your cervix entirely before shooting his load inside of you.
both of you groaned in pleasure, sunghoon whimpering your name as his climax came down on him with intense ecstasy that coursed through his body. each nerve ending of his blazing with fire while his mind melted. you felt so unreal.
he finally came down from his high, allowing the two of you to catch your breaths as he was rooted still so deep inside of you. “you okay, doll?” he mumbled lowly only for you to hear, panting on your skin while you nodded tiredly, eyes clearly droopy and sleepy making him chuckle. finding all of your expressions so adorable.
“you did so good for me, little girl.” he kissed your lips, savouring the taste of you on his tongue and lips before he gently pulled away. pulling his softening length out and quickly fixing his clothing before grabbing your discarded towel to help clean you up. unaware of the fact that there was a looming, pissed jaeyun behind him like his shadow.
“what the fuck sunghoon!?” he suddenly yelled, making the two of you jump in surprise before you tiredly looked over and sunghoon angrily turned around. “the fuck are you yelling for?” he furrowed his eyebrows, seriously what was this dude thinking right now?
“you cheated!” he pointed his finger, eyes wide with the accusation as sunghoon only glanced at him one more time before returning to assist you. “didn’t he basically cheat?!” the shorter one turned around to face johnny who was too busy flirting with the next contestants, “yeah yeah you could do anything as long as you make the girl squirt, sim” he waved him off.
“why the fuck am i just knowing this?!”
at the end of the competition, sunghoon— as predicted won. he walked out of that place with not only an upset jaeyun and a hundred dollar bill, but also the love of his life.
a,note. thanks for reading !! (⺣◡⺣)♡
— 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ?
➺ PAIRING: lee heeseung x female reader
➺ GENRE: stepbrother au, smut
➺ SUMMARY: the story of how your stepbrother’s girlfriend realizes her boyfriend has never really been hers.
➺ CW/TW: stepcest, infidelity, possessiveness, heeseung can lift reader, cucking kink, voyeurism, masturbation (f), oral sex (f), fingering, face sitting, unprotected sex, creampies
➺ WC: 4.6k
NOTE: don’t like, don’t read.
A lot of people find your relationship with your stepbrother cute. How could they not? He’s always so doting and protective like a real brother would be. In spite of being only slightly older, Heeseung takes on a very important role in your life. He constantly goes out of his way to take care of you, making sure you have anything you could possibly need.
Heeseung’s girlfriend never thought too much about the relationship between you two. It was natural that he took the naive college freshman under his wing and constantly had you by his side. Mina found it endearing, actually. The way he worried about you like a mother hen who wasn’t ready for her young chick to go into the world alone is adorable and a good sign. After dating so many inconsiderate losers, she thinks she’s finally chosen the right guy.
But somewhere along the way, Mina starts to grow tired of it. Time has gone by, and you’re no longer a naive freshman who can’t get around without her boyfriend’s help. Of course family is important, but it’s not like you’re entirely helpless. And yet, that’s exactly the way Heeseung acts. He’s always ready to drop everything when you need him. On several humiliating occasions, he’s even left her half naked on his bed just to go to you because you bought something you couldn’t figure out how to put together, or because you wanted to hang out with him.
It’s hard for Mina to admit that she’s a little jealous. Especially because it all seems so ridiculous. There’s no way her boyfriend actually wants you like that. But as time goes on, she thinks that maybe she’s not all that crazy. Especially with the affectionate way her boyfriend looks at you. Despite all this, Mina doesn’t say anything. At least, not until Heeseung starts to bring you along to what were meant to be dates.
“Babe, why do you keep bringing your stepsister? i thought we were going on a date?” It’s hard for her to not sound bitter and annoyed.
“Her roommate is going to visit her parents, and I don’t want Y/N to be alone.” His tone is kind and gentle like always, but it’s also firm and leaves no room for arguments.
What’s worse is that Mina can’t bring herself to hate or blame you. In a way, she understands why her boyfriend is always so concerned about you. You’re so nice and trusting that it would be way too easy for someone to take advantage of that. There’s also the fact that you’ve been more than willing to let them have some alone time, but Heeseung never lets you leave.
It’s all so strange and frustrating that Mina feels like she has to take matters into her own hands. So she does.
The key to Heeseung letting you go is getting you a boyfriend—or at least getting you to start dating. It’s easy enough to find a guy who’s interested in you. That’s never been a problem for you, and all it takes is her showing your picture to the cute guy in her communications class for her plan to fall into place. As luck would have it, you’re also into meeting the guy and going out with him.
Little did Mina know, setting you up with him would be a mistake that would cost her everything.
On the night you’re meant to meet up with her classmate, Mina excitedly goes to her boyfriend’s apartment. It’s been a long time since she got to be alone with Heeseung, and she was going to make the most of it.
She’s dressed in tiny tank top and a cute little skirt that Heeseung loves—it barely hides the lingerie she’s wearing underneath. Mina quietly lets herself into her boyfriend’s apartment using her spare key. Quietly, she tiptoes to his room only to find the door wide open. What she doesn’t expect is to find you sitting on his the edge of bed while Heeseung kneels in front of you.
Mina feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on her as his pretty hands rub your soft thighs. You look incredible, clad in a cute little dress with your makeup and hair done to perfection. It’s a mistake for Mina to keep watching, but she can’t find her voice at the moment.
“Seungie, what’s wrong?”
God, Mina hates that you call him that. Mostly because she can tell how much Heeseung likes it.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going out to meet some guy?” Heeseung sounds almost venomous, but it’s like you don’t hear it. “Who is he? How’d you meet him?”
You tilt your head, pretty lips pulled down in a confused frown. “Didn’t Mina tell you? She set me up with a guy from her class. He’s really cute!”
A chill goes down Mina’s spine. She can see Heeseung’s back tense when you tell him how your date came to be. The air feels almost murderous as he gently squeezes your thighs.
It kills Heeseung that he was almost too late in stopping you from meeting some strange guy in the pretty little dress you have on. He softly rubs your thighs, eyes simmering with anger and desire he doesn’t care to hide. Not anymore.
“Oh, angel.” Your stepbrother murmurs, hands slowly trailing up to your thighs. “You know you’re my favorite girl, right?”
An unsuspecting smile graces your lips. “Yeah. And you’re my favorite guy.”
Heeseung hums in satisfaction as his fingers ghost the edges of your dress. He watches your eyebrows furrow, but you don’t say anything. As always, you have blind trust in your stepbrother. That’s all the indication he needs to get up and push you down on his bed. Heeseung hovers over you, loving how you’re staring up at him with sparkling, wide eyes. He swoops down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.
Your heart is racing in your chest as Heeseung forces his tongue into your mouth. Despite the initial shock, you quickly melt into the kiss. He swallows your moans, pulling you closer as he deepens the messy kiss. You mewl into his mouth, carding your fingers through his hair with desire you had never realized you had for him.
Meanwhile, Mina can only watch as her boyfriend kisses you with a passion that he clearly never felt for her. It feels like her heart is ripping in half as Heeseung begins to undress you. Tears well up in her eyes when he groans at the sight of the lingerie adorning your body. Mina can see how hard he is from where she’s standing, and the desire in his eyes is very different from the way he looks at her.
“Can’t believe you got all pretty for some other boy.” Heeseung spits as he starts to undress. “Were planning on letting him fuck you?”
You shake your head and go to speak, but you can’t when Heeseung roughly pulls off your lingerie then his own underwear. His cock is thick and big, possibly the biggest you’ve ever seen. It’s twitching and leaking as he looks at you with his dark eyes.
“W-We shouldn’t be doing this.” You whine as Heeseung shoves your thighs to your stomach and licks a broad stripe up your wet pussy.
Your stepbrother groans at your sweet taste, thrusting his tongue into your dripping hole. He laps up the juices leaking out of your slit, circling his tongue on your clit for good measure. The noise you let out is downright pornographic and pure music to Heeseung’s ears.
“Seungie!” You keen as you spread your legs and tangle your hands in his messy hair. “I– Fuck!”
Heeseung pulls back with a wet slurp to spread your cunt open with his big hands. “God. You have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, angel. Just had to taste it.”
Each one of his words is like a dagger to Mina’s heart and confidence. Wet tears trickle down her face, but she doesn’t say anything as you pull on her boyfriend’s hair. Heeseung only moans and dives back into your slick cunt. He greedily laps up everything that drips out of you, sucking and kissing your clit.
“We shouldn’t be doing this, Hee.” You repeat through a needy mewl, making no attempt to stop him. In fact, you buck your pussy into his mouth as he sucks on your sensitive bud.
“Shh, angel.” Heeseung shushes as he flicks his tongue across your swollen bud. “Just relax and let me eat you out. Been wanting to do this for so long.”
Mina swallows thickly, the hurt slowly being replaced by something else. Her eyes grow bigger when she realizes which feeling is taking over. She shifts slightly, feeling a familiar wetness begin to pool in her panties. Mina feels sick that the sight of her boyfriend cheating on her can turn her on, and she thinks that she should leave right now and never return.
But she stays.
Mina licks her lips and continues to watch. Even she can’t help but think how hot you look, whimpering and writhing as Heeseung pushes your thighs apart so he can bury his face deeper in your pussy. He flicks his tongue, slowly descending until he’s lapping at your hole, slowly fucking the wet muscle in and out. Your eyes roll back as your stepbrother eats your pussy like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.
The sounds coming from your pussy and the way Heeseung messily eats you out has Mina’s own cunt clenching with need. She can feel her underwear start to stick to her cunt as she watches her boyfriend lap up your arousal like a starved man. Mina bites her lip, feeling sick and twisted for being turned on by your pretty moans.
Heeseung suddenly pulls away, but not before he slaps your thigh playfully. He goes to lay on his back all while wearing a filthy smirk. “Sit on my face.”
You bite your lip as a hot flash of arousal pulses through your body. Both your and Mina’s cunts throb at the suggestion. Heeseung sees your hesitation, but doesn’t back down.
“C’mon, baby. Be a good little stepsister and ride my fucking face.” He growls out with dark eyes.
With your pussy dripping, you crawl over to him and kneel over his face. Mina watches with heated eyes as you slowly lower your cunt on her boyfriend’s face. The heat in her stomach grows when she hears Heeseung groan in satisfaction.
“That’s it. I want your pretty pussy suffocating me.”
With that, your stepbrother grabs your hips and pulls your cunt down onto his face with a groan. Mewling quietly, you rub your cunt all over his mouth. Every time he moans or grunts, it sends little vibrations through your pussy. The delicious feeling has you grinding down on his tongue as you chase that feeling. Heeseung eagerly fucks his wet muscle into your hot cunt, already addicted to your sweet taste.
Mina swallows thickly when he sees Heeseung thrusting into the air as he eats you out. His cock is leaking and throbbing with need. Fuck. How she’d like to go and lick all that up, to have him fuck her mouth as he fucks you with his tongue. Mina rubs her thighs to soothe the growing ache in her pussy as she watches you ride Heeseung’s face.
Your eyes roll back when your stepbrother slaps your ass. A loud squeal spills from your lips as Heeseung keeps fucking his tongue up into your cunt. He grabs your ass and kneads it roughly. With one last groan and flick of his tongue, he sits up and takes you with him. The effortless display of strength turns both women on, one containing her moan while the other cries out as she’s pressed back into the mattress.
“Such a sweet little cunt.” Heeseung moans as he buries his face back into your dripping cunt. “Shit, Y/N. You’re fucking soaked down here.”
“Heeseung!” You cry out as he pries your thighs further apart. Your stepbrother shakes his head to grind his tongue against your sensitive cunt.
“Fuck, you have the hottest little pussy.” Heeseung lifts his head with a groan, lips shiny with your arousal. “Missed eating some good pussy. It’s been so long.”
Mina feels pathetic that her cunt throbs at his degrading words. She bites her lip, hands trailing up her thigh and to her soaked underwear. It’s so filthy and humiliating, but the ache in her pussy is getting to be too much. She slowly rubs circles on her covered cunt as she keeps watching her boyfriend cheat on her.
“Fuck, Seungie.” You mewl desperately. “S-Shouldn’t like having your face buried in my cunt.”
Heeseung smirks into your wetness. He gently circles his tongue on your clit, kissing it tenderly before he gently starts to nip at it with his teeth. Mina shoves her panties aside when you moan out in pleasure. Now she’s furiously rubbing at her bare pussy, wanting to see you cum on her boyfriend’s face.
“But you do, baby. You like me fucking you with my tongue, and I fucking love eating this sweet little pussy.”
Your hips buck up at the words, grinding your cunt against his mouth as you moan for him. Juices drip out of you lewdly, leaking down to your ass and onto Heeseung’s sheets. Your head is swimming with pleasure, and you have to remember that this is all so very wrong.
“You like that?” Heeseung teases you, loving how you’ve turned into putty in his hands. “Answer me, Y/N. Do you like your stepbrother telling you how much he loves tasting your juicy cunt?”
Your back arches when Heeseung sucks your puffy bud into his mouth. “God—yes! Feels so fucking good, Hee! Love having your mouth on my pussy.”
Heeseung growls, the vibrations making your cunt throb as he sucks and licks your swollen clit. Eager to have you cum on his tongue, he slips two fingers into your fluttering hole. Mina follows in suit, unable to take her eyes off the erotic sight of you getting ate out and fingered. Fuck. This was better than any porn she had ever watched. Her hand is dripping with her own arousal, and she can’t even feel disgusted anymore that she’s so turned on by the entire situation.
“Mmmh, shit, Hee.” You whine as the tips of his fingers brush against the gummy spot inside you. “You’re gonna make me cum.”
“Do it, baby. Cream all over my tongue.” He purrs in delight. “Be a good girl and cum for me.”
Heeseung flattens his tongue on your clit while his fingers grind into the spongy spot in your cunt. Your back arches off the bed, orgasm whiting out your thoughts as you cum around his long fingers.
Mina has to cover her mouth as Heeseung moans along with you. By now she’s shoved her fingers into her sopping pussy, the squelching sound is drowned out from the sounds coming from your own pussy. The filthy sight is driving her wild, and she’s so delirious with arousal that she wishes Heeseung would just fuck you already.
“You’re amazing, angel.” Your stepbrother praises with his fingers still buried knuckle deep in your pussy as he softly strokes your velvety walls. “So soft and wet. It makes me want to shove my dick into your tight little hole.”
Heeseung slowly pulls his fingers out of you, and you can only watched with a lidded gaze as he moves his body between your thighs. His cock is twitching and leaking as he grabs the base. He smacks his cock down on your slippery pussy, dragging his drooling tip up and down your slit slowly. Mina has to press her hand into her mouth harder to stifle her filthy moans. The sight of her boyfriend pressing his drooling cockhead into your soaking pussy is so hot she might just cum all over her fingers.
“S-Seungie—fuck. We shouldn’t.” You whimper as he leans forward and braces his arms by your head.
You and Mina both know you don’t really mean your words. It’s clear that you want your stepbrother to split you open on his big cock. That becomes obvious when you don’t try to stop him as he shoves his cock into your pussy until he bottoms out completely, balls pressing against your ass. Shuddering with pleasure, you scratch your nails up his arms as you sink into the bed.
“Pretty pussy was meant to take my cock.” Heeseung growls, already drunk on the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his dick. “Fuck. I know it’s wrong, baby, but I just couldn’t help myself. Your hot little cunt was just begging for my dick. Doesn’t it feel all nice and full having your pussy stuffed with your stepbrother’s big cock?"
Mina starts fucking herself harder when you nod desperately. Your hands go to tangle in his hair as you grind your hips up to meet his thrusts. “Yes! Fuck! Love my stepbrother’s cock stretching me open! Feels so fucking good, Hee!”
Mina knows better than anyone how good you must feel. Although, she imagines you feel must better than she ever did because from the way Heeseung’s fucking you, she can tell he’s doing it with much more enthusiasm and passion. Even his moans are more guttural and full of more pleasure than she’d ever heard. They’re deep as he pulls out until just his tip is spearing you open. Then, he pushes forward, thrusting his cock deep into your fluttering walls.
“That’s it. Tell me how good it feels.” Heeseung leans down, lips brushing against yours. “Don’t be shy, angel. Let me know how much you like this cock fucking you.”
You gasp wantonly and pull him down further to press your lips together. He groans and licks into your mouth easily, tongue slipping past your lips as his cock thrusts deep into your hot, wet cunt. Your hips buck up to meet his, loving how his dick rams into your sweet spot over and over until your sight is painted with pretty little stars.
“Fucking love it, Hee.” You moan between sloppy kisses. “God—I love your cock!”
The coil in Mina’s stomach is close to snapping. By now, her juices are dripping down to her wrist. Luckily, the lewd squelching and sound of skin slapping together drown out any noise she’s making. Heeseung is fucking you so hard and good that she can smell the musky scent of sex from where she’s standing. The erotic aroma turns her on even more, pussy clamping down on her fingers in desperate need of release.
“Tight little pussy feels so good.” Heeseung moans out between the quick pecks he’s giving you. “God, I love you, Y/N. So fucking much.”
Your heart races as Mina’s breaks all over again. It hurts, but somehow that just turns her on even more. She keeps fingering herself as tears pool in her eyes.
With a low moan, your pussy clamps down on Heeseung’s dick tightly as you go to eagerly kiss him. A soft I love you, too goes unnoticed by Mina, but not by your stepbrother. He groans into your mouth, cock throbbing inside you.
“Mmmh.” Heeseung hums against your lips before he trails wet kisses down your neck. “I love my gorgeous girl. That’s why this feels so good. Even your tight little pussy knows how much I love you.”
His gorgeous girl? Mina thinks deliriously, orgasm dangerously close. It’s something he never referred to her as.
You cry out loudly when Heeseung bites your neck and sucks the skin into his mouth. His hips rock against yours, balls smacking against your ass as his pelvis grinds down on your swollen clit.
“Seungie!” You whine in ecstasy. “I’m getting close.”
Your stepbrother doesn’t let up. In fact, his thrusts seem to get faster and rougher. His cock pistons in and out of your cunt, creating sloppy wet sounds as you get even wetter. His eyes are dark as he pulls back to look at you, all pretty squirming and trembling on his cock.
“Cum for me, baby. Cover my cock with your sweet cream so I can fill you up.” Heeseung pants. “Cum on my cock, angel.”
His teeth sink into your neck again, and it pushes you over the edge. Your hot cunt throbs as you squeeze down on his cock. Somehow your pussy only gets tighter and tighter as you get fucked through your orgasm. You tighten your legs around his waist until he can barely pull out, rutting his cock in short shallow thrusts as your climax starts to taper off.
“So fucking tight.” Heeseung hisses by your ear. “Shit, baby. Get ready. I’m about to creampie your cute little pussy. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
With a strangled grunt, he buries his cock to the hilt and shoots his load deep inside your fluttering walls while your pussy softly milks him for every drop of his hot cum. Mina reaches her own climax when she sees her boyfriend cumming inside you. She has to stifle her moans as she trembles and shakes outside the room that’s filled with the smell and sounds of hot sex.
“You’re taking it so well, angel.” Heeseung kisses your jaw tenderly as his fat tip spurts rope after rope of his thick cum into your clenching heat. “Milking my cock like I knew you would.”
He grinds his hips down, cock pulsing as he finishes stuffing you full of his hot, sticky load. Your stepbrother fucks his cum inside a bit more before reluctantly pulling out. Heeseung’s cock throbs as he watches his seed drip from your messy pussy.
He licks his lips, heated gaze never leaving your body. “Let’s do it again.”
You don’t try to protest as your manhandles into a different position. Mina is still coming down from her high when she realizes her boyfriend is still hard and about to fuck you again. She knows she shouldn’t feel excited or aroused by the fact, but she does. Especially when your face is shoved into one of Heeseung’s pillows just before his big cock rails back into your needy pussy.
Heeseung starts fucking you so hard his headboard slams into the wall repeatedly. The harsh sound pairs well with the plop plop plop sound coming from your cunt.
“God, Y/N. You’re so fucking good for me.” Heeseung groans when you clench down on him.
You moan loudly, bouncing yourself back on his cock. “Fu-Fuck, Seungie. This is wrong. We s-shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I know.” Your stepbrother smacks your ass, not sounding the least bit remorseful. “It’s so dirty baby, but I couldn’t help myself. Had to get my dick wet using your pretty little pussy.”
“Mmmh!” You whine out mindlessly, face turned to the side with your ass raised in the air for Heeseung to fuck deeper into your wet hole. “Feels so fucking good!”
“Yeah, it does.” Heeseung’s laugh sounds almost mean as he speeds up his thrusts to fuck his cock harder into your sopping cunt. “Your cute little pussy is the best I’ve ever had.”
His words shouldn’t please you as much as they do, but those lewd words turn you on so much that you can’t stop your cunt from tightening around him as he keeps spearing into you like an animal in heat. They also shouldn’t turn on Heeseung’s girlfriend but that’s exactly what they do. She isn’t angry, only extremely aroused as your ass bounces back on your stepbrother’s pelvis.
“Fuck!” Heeseung groans, fucking his cock right into your g-spot. “You’re so fucking hot, angel.”
You are. So hot that Mina finds herself wishing she could eat Heeseung’s cum out of your pretty cunt. She just knows you taste good, and mixed with her boyfriend she’s sure you must taste even better.
“Seungie, please!” You cry out, dizzy with arousal.
“Shit.” He growls, slipping a hand underneath your hips to rub fast circles on your clit. “Gonna make you cream on my cock again.”
“Heeseung!” You squeal as he picks up his pace, ramming into your squelching pussy as he rubs soft circles into your swollen clit.
Your stepbrother shoves his cock deep into your cunt and grinds, making you squirm and whine as his dick rubs against the spongy spot in your pussy. Your hands twist in the sheets. He flicks and pinches your puffy clit. God, do you look good, and so does Heeseung. Mina is groping one of her tits while the other hand goes to play with her pussy again. Briefly, she thinks she wouldn’t mind having a video of you two fucking so she can watch it over and over again.
“Hee, I’m gonna cum.” You moan against the pillow.
“Do it, baby.” He encourages you, free hand coming down to slap your ass hard. “Cum all over my cock. Want to feel your hot cunt squeeze me.”
It’s not long before your orgasm hits. You’re screaming into your pillow as your cream coats Heeseung’s big cock. Your pussy clamps rhythmically around his dick. Mina can’t see you, but with the way your toes are curling she can tell your eyes are rolling to the back of your head in pure ecstasy.
“Oh, baby. You feel so fucking good.” Heeseung praises you. His hands move to slap your ass again, making you squeal and tighten again. “Fucking work your little pussy on my cock. Fuck. Need to fill you up again.”
“Want you to stuff me full.” You whine back at him, pussy fluttering at the thought of Heeseung’s cum filling your cunt again.
“Yeah?” Your stepbrother laughs, sounding way too delighted. “Want me to creampie your hot little cunt again?”
“Please!” You whine as Heeseung’s fingers slide over your hip to start working soft circles into your clit again. You writhe back on him, feeling yourself get even wetter at the filthy thought of him shooting his hot load inside you.
“Cum inside me, Hee.” You pant, mewling when his fingers rub your clit even faster. “Want it so bad. Want to feel it.”
“Oh, fuck.” Heeseung groans, hips snapping hard against your ass when he feels how tight you’ve gotten. “You ready, baby? Fucking take it. Take your stepbrother’s cum in your needy little cunt.”
You moan loudly when you feel his hot cum filling your pussy, stuffing you so full it drips out around his cock. Heeseung ruts his spent cock into your sloppy pussy as he pinches your clit, watching as your back arches as a fourth orgasm sweeps through you. You lazily fuck your cunt back into him, loving the feeling of his cum dripping out of you and coating your thighs.
Heeseung pulls out of your warm cunt with a low groan. He’s quick to pull you against his chest and lays you down with him. His face is buried in your hair, eyes closed in bliss as you both try to catch your breaths. You feel his smile in your hair as he cuddles you and murmurs sweet praises against your temple.
Through your drooping eyes, you catch sight of Mina. Her eyes widen when you two make eye contact. You can’t hide your smirk when you see that she was masturbating to the sight of Heeseung fucking you raw. Instead of saying anything, you give her a seductive wink. Mina clenches around her fingers because the wink is full of understanding and promises.
It’s clear that Heeseung was never hers, but maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing.
FULFILLED.ᐟ
pairing ᝰ.ᐟ sim jaeyun x reader
genre ᝰ.ᐟ smut
warnings ᝰ.ᐟ fingering, pussy eating, unprotected sex, tit play, daddy kink, etc.
natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.
you had always kept to yourself, preferring solitude over pointless small talk and meaningless interactions. socializing never appealed to you—why waste energy caring about people’s lives when they were just as irrelevant as the next? you were content in your own world, detached from the gossip, the hierarchy, the petty dramas that surrounded you.
but if there was one person who could pull you out of your quiet indifference, who could bring out the worst in you, who could make your blood boil with nothing but pure, unfiltered rage—it was sim jaeyun.
the golden boy. the poster child of perfection. the captain of the soccer team and the walking, breathing ego that came with it. jaeyun was obnoxiously charming, devastatingly good-looking, and painfully aware of it. you hated to admit it, but he was infuriatingly hot—the kind of attractive that made it even worse when he opened his mouth and let that cocky, self-assured, utterly insufferable personality spill out.
and yet, no matter how much you tried to ignore him, he was always there—always in your space, always testing your patience, always pushing you toward the edge of absolute hatred.
like right now.
the distant shrill of a whistle cut through the air, a cruel reminder that karma had decided to be your enemy today. all you wanted was a moment of peace to focus on your studies, yet the universe had other plans.
your fingers gripped the edge of your notebook, trying to block out the noise, but curiosity—or perhaps masochism—had your eyes drifting from the pages to the field below.
and there he was.
jaeyun stood in the middle of the field, black compression shirt clinging to his body like a second skin, accentuating every toned muscle, every sharp dip and curve of his figure. his sleeves stretched tight around his biceps, flexing every time he moved, and his broad shoulders carried the kind of natural confidence that made it impossible not to look.
his hands—god, his hands—looked buffer than ever, fingers flexing as he wiped the sweat from his brow. damp strands of hair clung to his forehead, framing his face in a way that was unfairly attractive, his jaw clenched in focus, lips parted as he caught his breath.
and just like that—you hated him even more.
you hated how good he looked. hated how someone so cocky, insufferable, and utterly arrogant managed to crawl his way under your skin with nothing but a smirk and a well-timed stretch. hated how, despite everything, your body reacted to him in ways that made you sick with frustration.
because no matter how much you despised sim jaeyun, there were nights where you couldn’t help yourself.
nights where the memory of his voice—low, smooth, teasing, always dripping with mockery—played in your mind like a broken record. nights where your fingers gripped the sheets, your body aching, your mind clouded with filthy, shameful fantasies about how he’d be in bed.
rough. harsh. demanding.
a man like him wouldn’t settle for anything less than full control, wouldn’t be soft or hesitant, wouldn’t let you get away with your usual bratty attitude. his cock—of course it’d be big, thick and veined, the kind that made your thighs clench just thinking about it. and he’d know exactly how to use it, how to ruin you, how to make you choke on his name the same way he always made you choke on your words when you argued.
there had been too many nights where you’d touched yourself too much, too desperately, too often, chasing a high you could only ever reach by thinking about him. remembering the way he spoke to you, taunted you, tested you. he never even had to do anything overtly sexual—just the sound of his voice, the way he said your name with that condescending smirk, was enough to make your stomach twist with something you refused to name.
maybe it wasn’t hate. maybe it wasn’t even anger. honestly, you didn’t know what the fuck it was.
but you knew you were fucked.
and he knew it too.
because the moment your gaze lingered for too long, the moment you let your eyes betray you, his head snapped up, locking onto yours with deadly precision. his lips curled into a smug, knowing smirk, one that told you he could read your thoughts, see the way your thighs subtly pressed together, feel the heat burning under your skin.
and then he did something unforgivable.
his hands dropped to the hem of his compression shirt, fingers teasing the fabric, dragging it up slowly—too slowly—revealing the toned ridges of his abs, the sharp v-line disappearing beneath his shorts. his skin glistened with sweat, muscles flexing as he wiped a hand over his face, and that was it. that was your breaking point.
your thighs clenched before you could stop them, heat pooling between your legs at the intrusive, unholy thought of grinding against his abs.
but your face? your face remained impassive, indifferent, perfectly annoyed.
except he saw right through you.
his smirk widened, and then—because he was a menace, a fucking devil—he lifted two fingers, forming a V, and flicked his tongue between them, slow and deliberate.
your breath caught, a sharp gasp nearly escaping, but you swallowed it down, forcing yourself to glare.
because this was his favorite game.
he loved to push you, tease you, provoke you, just to see how far he could take it before you snapped. and you? you hated that it worked.
hated that your body betrayed you every time.
hated that instead of looking away in disgust, your mind ran wild with images of that tongue on you, between your legs, ruining you in ways your own fingers never could.
because the truth was—as much as you hated his teasing, hated his smug expressions, hated the way he knew exactly how to get under your skin…
you hated even more that it turned you on.
you couldn’t take it anymore.
the heat pooling in your stomach, the unbearable ache between your legs, the way jaeyun had looked at you like he knew everything you were thinking—it was too much. you needed to get away, needed space, needed somewhere secluded where he wouldn’t find you, wouldn’t push you further, wouldn’t see just how much he was affecting you.
gathering your belongings in a flustered haze, you left the bleachers, forcing yourself to walk, not run, as if that would somehow keep him from noticing your sudden, desperate retreat. the moment you stepped inside the girls’ bathroom, the tension in your shoulders loosened, the silence finally giving you a moment to breathe. it wasn’t ideal, but it was private, safe, far away from him.
or at least, it should have been.
but even as you reopened your notebook, pretending to refocus, your mind was already wandering. drifting back to the way jaeyun had looked standing on that field, his sweat-slicked skin glistening under the sun, his shirt riding up just enough to drive you insane.
you exhaled sharply, pressing your thighs together, feeling the uncomfortable stickiness between them. you couldn’t take it anymore. and though it was a reckless, dangerous thing to do here—on school grounds, in a public bathroom where anyone could walk in—you didn’t care.
your fingers trembled slightly as you set your books aside, reaching down to drag your skirt up, revealing the dampened fabric of your panties—soaked, ruined, completely exposing how badly he had affected you. the cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the fire burning in your core.
hesitation didn’t exist.
your fingers traced over the damp fabric, pressing down on your clit through your panties, delivering soft, teasing strokes that made your body twitch, thighs clenching involuntarily. your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth, suppressing the moan that threatened to spill out as you circled your fingers again, testing the sensitivity, reveling in the fact that it was all because of him.
never in your life did you think you’d be getting off at school, but you had one person to blame.
and that same person was going to pay for it later.
your mind drifted, unraveling into dark, forbidden thoughts—starting first with his hands, the way they flexed when he wiped sweat off his face, the veins running along his knuckles, his fingers long and thick, so perfectly built for touching, gripping, fucking. you imagined those same fingers curving inside you, pressing deep, dragging along your walls, knowing exactly where to touch, how to break you apart with just his hands.
“fuck…” the word slipped past your lips, soft, breathy, needy. your fingers picked up their pace, rubbing tight circles over your clit, imagining him doing it instead.
then your mind wandered lower.
his thighs—thick, strong, built from years of training—the way they’d feel underneath you, how he’d let you grind down against them, flexing just to make you feel it harder. you could almost hear him in your head, that low, mocking voice filled with amusement as he teased, “is this all you can do, baby? i thought you hated me.”
your breath hitched, your fingers working faster, needier, the tension tightening in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any second.
your mind spiraled deeper into the fantasy of him, completely lost in the intoxicating thought of jaeyun ruining you. his plump lips—the same ones that always curled into a cocky smirk, the ones that taunted you endlessly—now pressed against your body, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your skin, sucking harshly just to claim you. you could almost feel the bruises he’d leave behind, marking you up just to prove a point, just so everyone could see that you were his.
but then it was his tongue—your mind whirling at the filthy images of him trailing it over every inch of your body, slow and teasing, cruel in the way he’d drag it across your skin with no urgency, knowing you’d squirm under his touch. especially when he finally settled between your legs, hovering, smirking at how soaked you’d be for him.
he wouldn’t give in easily—no, jaeyun would make you beg, make you say his name the way he wanted before rewarding you. you could picture it too vividly, the way he’d flick his tongue over your clit in agonizingly small strokes, just enough to tease but never enough to satisfy, forcing you to writhe beneath him. you’d grip his hair, try to push him closer, but he’d only laugh, his voice thick with amusement as he murmured, “desperate, aren’t you?”
and the worst part? you would be.
but nothing—nothing—would compare to the thought of his cock.
his thick, veined length, the way he’d stretch you open, the way he’d find pleasure in watching you struggle to take him in. your mind twisted into filthier images, ones that made you ache with need, thinking about him forcing himself past your lips, groaning as he watched your mouth stretch around his size, watching you choke, struggle, drool as he shoved himself deeper.
he’d mock you for it, for your watery eyes, for the way you tried to take him so obediently despite the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “what’s wrong, baby?” he’d taunt, “too much for you?” but he wouldn’t let up. he’d hold you there, letting you suffer with your mouth full of him, finding twisted amusement in your helplessness.
“fuck, jaeyun—” the moan escaped before you even realized it, his name falling from your lips with ease, your fingers working faster, deeper, more desperate. the sound of wetness echoed off the bathroom walls, mixing with the heavy, uneven breaths slipping from your lips. but you were too far gone to care.
your mind whirled into new possibilities, wondering—which position would he love most?
doggy?
would he want you on all fours, back arched for him, ass perfectly presented as he pressed his cock deep into you, one hand fisting your hair while the other came down in harsh, stinging slaps on your skin?
the image alone had your body tensing, your core tightening, the thought of him commanding you, ruining you, owning you tipping you dangerously close to the edge.
“shit—!”
your body jerked, pleasure crashing into you, breaking you apart as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving your thighs shaking, your breathing heavy and uneven.
your fingers slowed, the aftershocks pulsing through your body as the last waves of pleasure settled deep in your core.
but as the high faded, as the reality of what just happened sank in, only one thing lingered in your mind.
you needed to get back at him for this.
as the waves of pleasure slowly faded, leaving behind a lingering buzz of sensitivity, you fumbled for the toilet paper, wiping the slick from your fingers with shaky hands. your breathing was still uneven, erratic, the aftershocks of your orgasm pulsing faintly through your body as you reached for your phone. the screen lit up, the time glaring back at you—past 4.
you needed to get out of here. now.
with slightly trembling fingers, you tugged your sticky panties back into place, the damp fabric clinging uncomfortably against your sensitive core, a stark reminder of what you had just done. pressing down your skirt with forced nonchalance, you exhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself, trying to act as if nothing had happened.
your bag swung over your shoulder, your belongings clutched tightly in your hands as you pushed open the stall door—only to freeze.
your breath caught in your throat.
what the actual fuck.
there he was.
jaeyun.
leaning casually against the sinks, his arms crossed over his chest, his head tilted downward in what looked like bored amusement.
but then—he lifted his gaze.
his smug, infuriating, cocky gaze.
the second he heard the stall door open, his head snapped up, lips curling into a slow, devastating smirk.
his eyes—dark, knowing, utterly unreadable—swept over you in a way that made heat prickle down your spine, that made your heart slam against your ribs.
and in that moment, you knew.
he had been here the entire time.
your entire body locked up, every muscle in your frame going rigid as a sudden, burning heat crept up your neck, flooding your cheeks, settling deep in your stomach. the air in the bathroom felt thick, suffocating, the weight of jaeyun’s gaze alone pinning you in place, rendering you completely, utterly speechless.
your mind scrambled, trying—desperately, frantically—to piece together some kind of snarky response, something sharp and biting, something that would make it seem like you weren’t caught red-handed. but the words never came, vanishing before they could even form, leaving you stranded in the unforgiving silence that stretched between you.
his presence felt all-consuming, taking up every ounce of space, every breath of air, every single thought in your head. and you knew. you fucking knew there was no talking your way out of this.
because you had been caught.
completely. undeniably. irreversibly caught.
jaeyun let out a soft scoff, the sound laced with amusement, disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed—but was entirely enjoying it. he shifted, his posture straightening, his hands lowering to press against the sink counter, his grip firm, calculated, like he was settling in for a show.
but his eyes—sharp, teasing, deadly—never wavered from yours.
“had fun, baby?”
his voice was smooth, lazy, dripping with pure, unfiltered arrogance.
and it was deadly.
“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about..”
the words tumbled out, weak, unconvincing, betraying you before you could even attempt to sound believable. your voice stammered, breath still uneven, the aftermath of your orgasm clinging to you in ways you couldn’t hide. it was pathetic, really—grasping at the thin veil of denial, desperately gaslighting yourself into believing that maybe, just maybe, jaeyun had heard nothing.
he hadn’t walked in on you touching yourself to the thought of him.
he hadn’t heard the breathless, wrecked moan of his name spill from your lips as your fingers worked you to the edge.
and he sure as hell hadn’t been standing there, watching, listening, waiting, while you fell apart over him in the most shameless way possible.
right?
jaeyun pushed himself off the counter, his movements slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to watch you crumble. his gaze dragged over your face, taking in the way your lips parted slightly, the way your eyes darted away, flustered, panicked, guilty.
he knew. he fucking knew.
his steps were unhurried as he made his way toward you, closing the space effortlessly, like a predator playing with its prey. his hands stayed tucked in his pockets, a move that would have seemed casual if not for the way he subtly angled his hips, discreetly camouflaging what you already knew was there.
“no?” he echoed, voice mocking, smooth, his head tilting slightly, lips curling into something dangerous.
he stopped just close enough, forcing you to look up at him, the space between you nonexistent, suffocating.
“are you sure about that?”
his voice dropped lower, his tone dipping into something dark, knowing, completely unforgiving.
you were fucked.
“i have t-to go…”
your voice barely held steady, coming out in a breathless, shaky whisper, but you forced yourself to move anyway, clutching your bag like it was some kind of lifeline. your body screamed for an escape, your mind racing for any possible way out of this mess, but the second you tried to squeeze past him, it was over.
jaeyun’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist, spinning you effortlessly before your back collided with the cold, unforgiving wall. the force made you gasp, your bag slipping from your fingers, its contents spilling onto the tiled floor, but you barely noticed—not when he was this close.
your breath hitched, sharp and uneven, your chest rising and falling too fast as he closed the distance, his body just inches from yours, pressing into you without actually touching. but the heat radiating off him, the sheer intensity of his presence made it feel like he was everywhere.
his breath—hot, teasing, deliberate—cascaded over your ear, sending a shiver straight down your spine.
“why don’t i make it happen?”
his voice was low, dark, dripping with suggestion, and before you could even process his words, his tongue flicked out—a teasing, feather-light lick against the shell of your ear. your body jolted in response, heat coiling low in your stomach, a betrayal to your own desperation to resist him.
his hands slid down, coming to rest on your waist, fingers firm, possessive, gripping you like he was testing just how badly you wanted to run.
except you didn’t.
you couldn’t.
you never thought—not even in your wildest, filthiest fantasies—that this would actually happen.
you had dreamed of this—had spent too many shameful nights lost in the thought of him, picturing his hands gripping you just like this, his lips ghosting over your skin, his voice laced with the same dark amusement he carried now.
but you never thought it would go this far.
you never thought he’d know.
“i heard it all, y/n. don’t lie to me.”
the words sent a shockwave through you, making your stomach drop, your body locking up instantly.
he was so close now, so unbearably close, his breath ghosting over your cheek, his voice low, smooth, completely in control.
your wide, stunned eyes met his—dark, full of lust, unreadable in the worst way. your lips parted, chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow breaths, every ounce of air in the room suddenly gone.
the tension was suffocating. electric. devastating.
you weren’t even sure which one of you was breathing harder.
but you knew one thing—you couldn’t take it any longer.
your hands shot up, sliding over the firm lines of his neck, your fingers gripping him desperately as your lips crashed into his.
he didn’t hesitate.
his mouth moved against yours just as urgently, his grip on your waist tightening, grounding you, pulling you flush against him.
the kiss was messy, rushed, uncontrolled, tongues colliding, fighting for dominance, a battle neither of you were willing to lose.
jaeyun tilted his head, deepening the kiss, pressing into you with more force, more hunger, his fingers digging into your hips, like he was staking his claim.
his lips broke away from yours, leaving your mouth swollen, tingling, but before you could even whimper in protest, he was already moving—trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck.
his tongue flicked out, dragging over your pulse, his lips following with a sharp, lingering suck before his teeth sank into your skin, biting down just enough to make you shiver.
“fuck, jaeyun—”
his name slipped from your lips in a breathless moan, your fingers burying themselves into his damp hair, tugging him closer, harder, as if you could make him devour you faster.
his hands slid under your shirt, rough and impatient, fingertips pressing into your ribs before curling around the fabric.
and then—he ripped it off.
the shirt was discarded somewhere, anywhere, his breath hitching as his hands immediately found your tits, cupping them in his palms, squeezing just enough to make you arch into him.
his thumbs rolled over your nipples, watching in dark fascination as they pebbled under his touch, slick from the heat between your bodies.
“fuck—” he groaned, his thumbs brushing, teasing, rubbing, eyes fixated on the way your tits bounced every time he played with them.
he had thought about this too many times, too many nights spent fisting his cock to the idea of it, imagining your tits wrapped around him, squeezing him, his cock sliding between them while your mouth was open, tongue flicking out to catch his tip.
and now, you were here—real, warm, desperate beneath him.
his hands moved behind you, unclasping your bra in one swift motion, tossing it aside without a second thought.
his gaze devoured you, drinking in the sight of your bare skin, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your nipples hard and begging to be in his mouth.
and then—he dove in.
his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, tongue swirling, flicking over the sensitive bud before his teeth caught it, tugging just enough to make you gasp.
“so fucking pretty,” he muttered against your skin, his breath hot, damp, intoxicating.
he sucked hard, determined to leave bruises behind, claiming you in deep, dark marks that would take days to fade.
his mouth trailed higher, pressing kisses up your collarbone, along the curve of your throat, before descending again, this time onto your other tit.
“mm—fuck, jaeyun—” your head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut, your panties soaked, sticky, unbearable with how badly you needed more.
but he didn’t give in—not yet.
“jaeyun, please—” your voice broke, your fingers tightening in his hair, tugging hard, trying to ground yourself, trying to make him move faster, harder, give you more.
but he only smirked against your skin, his grip on your waist tightening as he murmured, smug and cruel—
“beg better, baby.”
he lowered himself slowly, sinking to his knees before you, his lips dragging over your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. his hands found the hem of your skirt, fingers gripping the fabric as he pushed it up, letting it bunch around your waist, exposing just how much you needed him.
his hands guided your trembling thighs over his shoulders, positioning you perfectly, his face so close, too close, his breath hot, teasing, fanning against your soaking, ruined panties. his eyes darkened at the sight—your slick glistening through the thin fabric, staining it completely, proof of how wrecked you already were for him.
“fuck—” jaeyun groaned, his fingers hooking into the waistband, yanking harshly, tearing them away in one swift movement. the ripped fabric was tossed somewhere, forgotten, and before you could even process the loss, his hands grabbed at your ass, grounding you, keeping you balanced as his mouth descended upon you.
his tongue darted out, licking one slow, deliberate stripe through your folds before thrusting inside you, his mouth sealing around your dripping heat as if he were starving.
“ah—!” the scream ripped from your throat, your thighs clamping down around his head, your fingers flying to his hair, gripping tight, pulling hard.
but jaeyun didn’t care—he wanted it.
he wanted you to hold him there, wanted you to lose control, wanted to feel your body breaking apart in his hands.
his tongue moved in long, devastating licks, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking, flicking, devouring. he moaned into your heat, the vibrations shooting through you, making your body jolt, shudder, tremble.
“fuck—jaeyun, please! please—!”
your hips rocked against his mouth, chasing the friction, chasing relief, and he let you, let you use him, let you grind down on his face, his tongue fucking into you, licking you so deep, so perfectly, every flick of his tongue making the coil in your stomach tighten, tighten, tighten—
his hands squeezed your ass, pressing you even closer, his mouth slurping, messy, loud, and he groaned against you, the sound deep, guttural, pure sin.
“so fucking sweet, baby,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, his lips wet, glistening, ruined with you.
“gonna eat this pussy till you cry for me.”
your head slammed back against the wall, the dull ache barely registering over the overwhelming pleasure flooding your senses. the way jaeyun’s tongue worked inside you was nothing short of sinful—precise, merciless, devastating. every flick, every deep stroke of his tongue sent you spiraling, your thighs trembling violently atop his shoulders, threatening to give out completely.
your pussy clenched around the relentless movements of his tongue, soaking him, ruining him, making him groan into you like he was addicted to your taste. you could hear it—the obscene, wet sounds of him devouring you, drinking you in, savoring every drop like you were the best thing he’d ever had.
“jaeyun, please—c-can i cum? please, can i—i?”
your pleas turned to whimpers, then to sobs, your voice breaking under the weight of your impending climax, under the unbearable need to let go. your fingers gripped at his hair, desperate, pulling, tugging, trying to ground yourself, trying not to fall apart too soon.
jaeyun only chuckled against your heat, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you, making you twitch, gasp, tremble even harder.
“aww, you wanna cum, baby?” his voice was mocking, condescending, yet dripping with pure filth, his hands digging into your thighs, pressing them harder around his head. “wanna make a mess on daddy’s face?”
the word—that fucking word—sent a shudder through you, a sharp, visceral reaction you couldn’t suppress.
your moan was loud, desperate, wrecked, your body jerking involuntarily, the filthy nickname feeding into every sinful fantasy you’d ever had.
“please, please, daddy—”
your voice cracked, high-pitched, teetering on the edge of ruin, your climax hanging by a thread, so dangerously close, so impossibly unbearable.
jaeyun groaned against you, tongue flicking faster, his hands spreading you open wider, his movements completely unrelenting.
“then cum, baby,” he murmured against your clit, voice dark, commanding, merciless. “make a fucking mess for me.”
the second the words left his lips, you broke.
your orgasm crashed into you with full force, a violent, breathtaking release that tore through every nerve in your body. a loud, uncontrollable scream ripped from your throat, your entire form convulsing, trembling, muscles tightening so hard that for a second, you felt like you might black out from the intensity.
jaeyun groaned, his grip on your ass tightening, fingers digging in as he held you in place, his mouth devouring every drop of your release.
“fuck, baby—”” he rasped, voice thick with pure, ravenous hunger, the vibrations against your clit sending aftershocks ripping through you, making your thighs spasm uncontrollably around his head.
but he wasn’t done.
his tongue licked long, deliberate strokes, lapping up every bit of your arousal, cleaning you up with slow, torturous drags, drinking you in like he never wanted to stop.
“oh fuck—” your moans came in shaky, gasping breaths, your chest heaving aggressively, body still shuddering in the aftermath.
and yet, he still didn’t let up.
his mouth was relentless, his tongue dipping back in, pressing another slow, suffocating lick through your folds, his lips wrapping around your clit just to feel you twitch again.
but before the overstimulation could truly wreck you, he finally lifted himself off you, his face slick with your release, his lips glistening, wet, ruined.
and yet, he didn’t wipe it away.
he licked his lips—slow, deliberate, greedy.
“so fucking good, baby.”
his voice was hoarse, rough, completely wrecked.
and his cock—fuck, his cock was aching.
his hunger for you was insatiable, he could spend hours between your thighs, ruining you over and over with his tongue alone, but the ache in his pants was now painful, throbbing, unbearable.
he wanted to feel you. all of you.
finally.
his hands moved with ease, picking you up effortlessly, his strength barely faltering as he carried you off his shoulders, setting you down onto the cool, porcelain sink.
his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart just enough to take in the mess he made of you.
his cock twitched in his shorts, straining painfully, the evidence of his arousal obvious in the thick wet patch covering the front of his sweats.
he didn’t waste another second.
with one hand, he dragged his shorts down, his boxers following, both pieces of clothing pooling at his ankles as he finally freed himself.
and fuck—your assumption had been right.
he was huge.
his cock stood heavy, thick, angry, his veins prominent, his slit already leaking precum, twitching with need as he gripped himself at the base, giving himself a few rough pumps.
“you’re doing so fucking good for me, baby,” his voice was pure sin, filled with dark satisfaction as he fisted himself, teasing his tip against your soaked, pulsating entrance. “such a good fucking girl.”
your body shuddered, still raw, overstimulated, desperate, but you wanted him more than anything.
“are you gonna take me well, baby?” he murmured, his voice taunting, teasing, his cock dragging along your folds, smearing his precum over your entrance. “gonna show daddy just how fucking desperate you are for his cock?”
your only response was a soft, wrecked whimper, your body too dazed, too lost in the haze of pleasure to form a coherent thought.
but jaeyun wasn’t feeling patient.
one hand slid up to your breast, squeezing it harshly, his fingers pinching your nipple as he finally pushed in.
the stretch was instant, breathtaking, overwhelming.
your walls clamped around him, your body struggling to take his sheer size, your head tilting back, mouth falling open in a silent scream as he pushed deeper, filling you inch by inch.
“oh fuck, baby—” his groan was deep, strained, broken, his grip on your breast tightening, fingers digging into your skin as he bottomed out completely.
his cock throbbed inside you, buried to the hilt, your tight walls gripping him so perfectly, so sinfully, so impossibly tight.
“shit—” he gritted out, his jaw clenching as he held still, letting you adjust, reveling in the way your body wrapped around him, sucked him in.
he had waited for this.
and now, he was going to ruin you.
his other hand moved to your neglected breast, fingers gripping, kneading, squeezing with just enough force to make your back arch deeper, a series of soft, low grunts escaping his lips as he drank in the sight of you.
“gonna fucking ruin you…” his voice was husky, dark, dripping with sin, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear before he snapped his hips forward.
“i’ll have you begging for more, baby.”
and then—he slammed into you.
his thrusts were merciless, brutal, unrelenting, each one hitting deeper, harder, sharper, the sheer force making your entire body jolt against the sink. your fingers desperately clawed at his back, nails digging into his skin, leaving burning, red trails that only made him groan louder.
“fuck—” your eyes rolled back, pleasure crashing over you as he found your sweet spot instantly, his cock pushing into you so deep, so perfectly, stretching you so good that your thighs trembled violently, your breath coming in shaky, uneven gasps.
and then—his hands left your tits.
only to come slamming down onto your skin.
hard.
the sharp sting of his palm meeting your flesh made your body jolt, your head tilting back as a loud, broken scream spilled from your lips.
“fuck, daddy!”
your cry echoed in the small space, your hands flying up, searching for something—anything—to hold onto as the pleasure overwhelmed you.
your fingers latched onto his broad back, nails raking down the sculpted muscles, leaving deep, red scratches that only fueled him further.
“fuuuck—” jaeyun groaned, voice thick, slurred, completely wrecked.
his head tilted back, his jaw clenched, his stomach flexing beautifully, sweat dripping down his abs as he pounded into you harder, the force of it rocking the sink beneath you.
“this pussy—taking me so fucking well—”
his words were half-spoken, half-moan, his voice drenched in pleasure, his hips never faltering, never slowing.
“you love this fucking dick, don’t you, baby?”
his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them even wider, pushing himself even deeper, watching as your body shuddered beneath him, completely ruined, completely his.
“fuck yes! yes!”
your scream echoed through the small space, bouncing off the bathroom walls as your body convulsed, every muscle tightening, your core clenching around him like a vice. each ruthless, punishing thrust sent you spiraling closer, the coil in your stomach winding tighter, tighter—
“gonna cum on my dick, baby?”
jaeyun’s voice was thick, strained, completely wrecked, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. his grip tightened around your legs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he lifted them higher, pushing them closer to the mirror behind you.
“oh—s-shit!”
your head snapped back, a scream ripping from your throat as his fingers descended, pressing against your swollen, overstimulated clit, flicking harsh, precise strokes over the bundle of nerves.
“wet my dick, baby,” he groaned, his voice hoarse, shaking, desperate.
his cock twitched violently, the feeling of your tight, spasming walls squeezing around him, sucking him in, milking him for everything he had sending him dangerously close to the edge.
you could barely breathe—barely think—your body thrashing, pleasure swallowing you whole as the dam finally, violently shattered.
“fuck, jaeyun—!”
your hands shot down, gripping your own thighs, holding them open, wide, vulnerable, and then—you snapped.
your orgasm crashed into you like a violent wave, knocking the air from your lungs as liquid pleasure gushed out of you, squirting harshly, uncontrollably against jaeyun’s lower stomach and soaking his cock.
“oh, fuck—yeah, baby—fuck!”
his moan was loud, shameless, raw, his rhythm stuttering, his hips snapping forward in a series of fast, erratic thrusts.
his cock throbbed aggressively, the feeling of your release covering him, dripping down his abs, your walls still fluttering around him sending him spiraling right after you.
“fuuuck—” he gasped, his voice wrecked, trembling as his head fell forward, his grip on your thighs turning bruising.
and then—he came.
thick, hot ropes of cum spurted deep inside you, coating your walls, filling you completely, stuffing you full, each pulse flooding you even more.
his hips jerked in tiny, shallow thrusts, riding out the last waves of his climax, his chest heaving, his body shuddering, both of you a mess of tangled limbs, hot skin, and ruined breaths.
but when he finally pulled out, a soft whimper of protest left your lips, your walls clenching around nothing, already missing the stretch of him inside you.
his low, satisfied groan sent another shiver down your spine as he watched, completely enthralled, entirely mesmerized, as his cum spilled out of you, thick and messy, dripping down your thighs.
“fuck, baby—look at that.”
his fingers traced over your wrecked entrance, pushing some of the cum back inside, watching it slowly ooze out again, a dark smirk curling on his lips.
you were completely spent, body trembling, breath still unsteady, but in the back of your mind, one thing became clear.
maybe—just maybe—your hate for him had never been real to begin with.
maybe it had always been masked by something deeper, something filthier, something much, much worse.
and now?
it had been completely, irrevocably fulfilled.
natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ i hope you all liked it !!
nonsense - s.jy
pairing: loser shy tutor!sim jaeyun x outgoing tutee fem!reader
synopsis: you're loud, confident, and a little too good at making shy boys squirm. your only issue is you’ve always hated physics—until you meet your painfully shy tutor, jake sim. he’s awkward, brilliant, and blushes every time you call him cute. so naturally, you flirt. hard. at first, he stammers and short-circuits, but as study sessions stack up, jake starts to change. maybe it’s the way you lean a little too close or how he starts to flirt back (badly, but adorably).
featuring: jake sim of enhypen n maki from &team!!
genre: college au fluff!!!
warnings: jake has his first kiss, making-out?? kind of. a bit of jealousy, jake is just a super cute loser. lowercase intended ◡̈
playlist: nonsense by sabrina carpenter & soft spot by keshi
wc: 2.411k
a/n: i fear i will ride the loser jake wave forever! i love nerdy men <3 btw this is not proofread...
you’ve always hated physics.
not because you didn’t get it — okay, maybe a little because of that — but mostly because it was boring. theories and forces and laws. rinse and repeat. you weren’t failing physics. not exactly.
you were, however, spending an uncomfortable amount of time squinting at your textbook wondering how the hell you’d gone from memorizing song lyrics in under a minute to barely remembering newton’s third law. you told yourself it wasn’t that bad. then your lab partner dropped out, and your professor kindly suggested that you “seek out support.”
support came in the form of jake sim.
quiet. polite. a little too handsome for his own good. glasses-wearing, formula-spouting jake, with a habit of ducking his head when people talked too loudly. you’d seen him around campus before — usually alone, sometimes reading while walking (impressive), always in a hoodie two sizes too big, and baggy jeans that he almost steps on.
you’d think he was popular, but those thick framed glasses always resting on his perfect nose made you think otherwise.
your meet-cute wasn’t the typical coffee-spill-and-eye-contact thing. it happened last semester, during an elective you were both in: intro to astronomy. you’d been running late one day, flustered and frantic, only one seat left in the lecture hall. next to him. you took it.
he didn’t even glance up.
not until halfway through the class, when you leaned over and whispered, “sorry if i’m invading your orbit.”
he looked at you like he didn’t get the joke. (he didn’t.)
but later that day, you got an anonymous compliment on the university confessions page. “to the girl who sat next to me in astronomy and said something about orbits… you kind of wrecked mine.”
you knew it was him. and you never forgot.
───
“you don’t have to hover,” jake mumbled, eyes focused on the problem set in front of him.
“i’m not hovering. i’m observing… like a particle. you know, in motion.”
“that’s not… how particles work.”
you smiled to yourself. “i was hoping you'd say that.”
he flushed immediately. jake didn’t handle flirting well. hell, he had never even felt the touch of a woman, nevertheless flirted with one.
you’d learned this by session two. if you got too close, he got tongue tied. if you complimented him, he’d practically glitch. it was fascinating. like a physics experiment, but cuter.
“what happens when you apply an external force to a closed system?” you asked, tapping your pencil.
he looked up slowly, suspicious. “depends on the force.”
you leaned in, gaze playful. “what if it’s me?”
he froze.
“y/n,” he said quietly, “you’re not even trying to learn right now.”
“that’s where you’re wrong, mr. sim.” you leaned back in your chair, spinning your pencil between your fingers. “i’ve been learning a lot.”
he narrowed his eyes, skeptical but intrigued. “like what?”
you met his gaze, serious now. “like how you pretend you didn’t notice me in astronomy last semester. even though you did.”
jake stiffened. his pen slipped from his fingers and rolled across the table.
“i—i didn’t—how did you—”
“i recognized your handwriting,” you said softly. “from the confession post.”
his face went scarlet.
you tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “you called me orbit girl.”
jake looked like he wanted to disappear into the earth’s mantle. “i didn’t think you saw that.”
“i did. i screenshotted it.” you shrugged casually, then added, “still have it.”
he looked like you’d just told him you’d been keeping a shrine in your closet. but beneath the panic, something else flickered — hope, maybe?
“…why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
and there it was. the plot twist.
you dropped your eyes to your notebook, fingers idly brushing a corner.
“i was going to,” you said. “but you never talked to me again. i figured you weren’t interested.”
jake looked stunned. like he’d just missed the punchline to his own joke.
“no! i mean– um…i wasn’t not interested,” he said quickly. “i just didn’t think someone like you would ever…”
“what?” you said, raising a brow. “flirt with their physics tutor?”
jake swallowed hard. “like me back.”
there was a beat of silence. you reached across the table, nudging his pen back toward him.
“you’re cute when you’re nervous, jake” he blushed and wrapped up the tutoring session, brain too flustered to continue talking about his second favorite subject (you’re his favorite).
───
you asked around for jake’s number which proved to be very difficult.
no one had it.
so, you did the only thing you could think of. you went to every cafe within a 15 mile radius of your campus, hoping to find the shy boy.
your mission to find him ended up taking longer than anticipated, misjudging how many cafe’s surrounded decelis. you’ve been to 23 and counting, not once finding the fluffy haired boy with glasses way too big for his adorable face.
as you walk into the twenty-fourth cafe, you think you see him. striped shirt, slightly messy brown hair, around 5’9ish. you walk up to him, tapping on his shoulder when someone behind you calls your name.
“y/n?”
you whip your head around to be met with those big, dark hazel eyes you adored so much.
his plump, heart-shaped lips were wrapped around the straw of his green grape ade, softly biting the plastic. his head was strewn to the side, resembling a golden retriever.
“i found you!” you happily cheered as you made your way to the little table he was at.
“f-found me? were you… looking? for me?” he stuttered which made you giggle.
you fondly smiled at him, “yeah. i was.”
after you ordered an iced mocha, you guys sat in a comfortable silence until you spoke.
“so,” you said, stirring whipped cream into your drink, “what’s a physics genius like you doing tutoring me when you could be dating someone who understands quantum mechanics?”
jake almost spat out his coffee.
you smiled sweetly. “kidding. kind of.”
“i—i don’t think I’m a genius,” he mumbled. “and I’m not — uh — dating anyone.”
“oh, i know,” you said casually, resting your chin on your hand. “campus gossip moves fast.”
jake’s eyes widened. “wait — what do you mean? what gossip? about me?”
you laughed. “relax, jake. you’re just a bit of a mystery. tall, soft spoken, brainy, never goes to parties. people notice.”
he stared at you like you’d told him he was famous.
you sipped your drink and shrugged. “i noticed.”
the cup trembled in his hand.
“…thanks?” he said, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.
you leaned forward. “you say that like you don’t believe me.”
jake’s mouth opened, then closed again.
he was still trying to respond when the barista called out your name, signaling your pastries were ready. you winked at him on the way up and when you turned back, he was still watching you, straw halfway to his mouth, like he couldn’t believe any of this was real.
───
you had your feet up on the seat across from you, swinging gently as you skimmed your notes. jake sat across from you, hoodie sleeves shoved up to his elbows, manspreading with his textbook open on his lap.
you knew what you were doing when you stretched, your shirt riding up slightly as you leaned across the table to reach a pencil. you knew jake saw. his eyes darted down and back up so fast it was like a reflex.
“everything okay?” you asked sweetly.
“fine!” he said, voice three octaves too high. “great. normal. yup.”
you laughed, tossing your pen down. “you know, if we were measuring awkward tension in this room, we’d have to switch to the richter scale.”
jake groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “why are you like this?”
“because it’s fun watching you short-circuit.”
he peeked at you through his fingers, a lopsided grin starting to form. “you’re evil.”
“i prefer charming.’”
there was a beat of silence. then, softly—
“you are.”
your smile faltered. just for a second. “what?”
jake met your eyes, cheeks still flushed but voice steady. “charming.”
you blinked. it was the first time he’d said something like that without tripping over his own tongue.
“…jake sim,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “are you flirting with me?”
he shrugged — shrugged — with fake nonchalance. “maybe.”
you stared at him.
he stared back.
and then — his pencil rolled off the table and he smacked his head on the edge trying to catch it.
“still me,” he groaned, face down on the table. “still a loser.”
you couldn’t help it. you laughed so hard you nearly fell out of your chair. he was cute and adorably clumsy. exactly. your type.
───
the next session, you came in with your usual confidence. playful comments. flirty glances.
but jake didn’t fold this time. (immediately).
in fact, when you were about to lean over to grab his calculator, he reached past you and did it first. smooth. like he was testing you.
“looking for this?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “who are you and what have you done with jake?”
he smiled — cocky, but still nervous. “maybe i’m learning.”
you tilted your head. “is this some physics thing? like, building resistance?”
“more like acceleration,” he said softly. “you keep pushing. i’m picking up speed.”
you stared at him.
he immediately panicked. “i mean — not in a creepy way — i just meant—”
you cut him off with a smirk. “careful, jake. you flirt like you solve equations — painfully accurate.”
he blushed again, but this time, he didn’t back away. instead, he looked at you for a long moment, then leaned in a little, just enough to make your breath catch.
“you said once that you noticed me before,” he murmured.
“yeah,” you said slowly.
he smiled, shy and genuine. “i think i’ve been noticing you for a lot longer.”
you forgot how to breathe for a second.
and then he bumped your knee under the table, awkward as ever. “anyway, we should… probably go over magnetic fields now.”
you grinned, heart racing. “god, you’re such a loser.”
“your loser,” he said quietly.
and somehow, that was the smoothest line of all.
───
the tutoring session was going fine.
that is, until maki showed up.
you were in the library lounge, halfway through a problem on thermodynamics, when a voice interrupted.
“y/n?”
you looked up. riki maus (known as maki). same year, tall, charming, objectively hot in that annoying way that made girls forgive him for talking through labs.
“hey,” you said, blinking. “didn’t know you were on this floor.”
jake went completely still next to you, pen frozen mid-equation.
maki barely glanced at him. “i was just heading out, but i had to say hi. you doing okay with physics? i tutor sometimes too, you know.”
jake’s grip on his pen tightened.
“oh?” you asked, amused. “you tutor now?”
maki shrugged. “not officially. but i could make time. for you.”
you opened your mouth, ready to tease him back, but jake’s voice cut in first.
“she already has a tutor.”
maki blinked, like he’d just noticed him. “right. sim, yeah? you’re in physics lab.”
“yeah,” jake said, still quiet, but there was an edge now. “i’ve got it covered.”
you turned to jake, brows lifting slightly. was he… tense?
maki grinned. “no offense, man, but i’ve heard tutoring y/n is more like surviving her. you sure you can handle it?”
jake stood.
you blinked. jake stood.
he was taller than you remembered. towering over maki, still in his soft hoodie and baggy jeans, but standing like something had clicked. like a switch had flipped.
“i can handle her,” he said, voice even. “better than anyone else.”
maki raised his hands. “okay. chill, bro.”
he gave you one last glance and walked off.
you looked up at jake. he was still standing, chest rising and falling like he was trying to keep it together.
“jake?”
his eyes met yours. there was something in them you hadn’t seen before. something fierce.
“do you like him?” he asked.
you frowned. “maki? god, no.”
he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. stepped closer.
“because i don’t like seeing guys like that flirt with you.”
you tilted your head, heart starting to pick up. “jealousy doesn’t suit you, sim.”
“i know,” he said quietly. “but you do.”
and then he kissed you.
you didn’t expect it. not from him. not like this.
not with his hand cradling your cheek so gently it made your heart ache, not with the way his lips pressed to yours like he’d been waiting for this moment for weeks — months — forever.
your breath caught. he was warm. steady. his lips moved with surprising confidence, slow at first, then deeper, more certain as you kissed him back.
his other hand found your waist, pulled you in, grounded you. like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.
your fingers curled in his hoodie, body leaning into his. he tilted his head just slightly and kissed you like a man who had solved the formula for gravity and decided to fall anyway.
wanting to deepen the kiss, you moved your thumb to his jaw, signaling him to open his mouth wider.
he (hopefully) got the hint and slowly but surely slotted his tongue right against yours. he wanted to memorize every part of you and figured he should start with your mouth.
it was as if your lips and tongues moved in perfect synchronization. like puzzle pieces.
when he finally pulled back, it was only enough to rest his forehead against yours.
you both stood there, catching your breath.
“…wow” you said, dazed. “what the hell, sim.”
he stared at you. blinked. once. twice. “w-was it okay? did i — do it wrong?”
silence.
he spoke again, “that was kinda.. my first — um — my first kiss…”
you let out a disbelieving laugh. “what do you mean that was your first kiss??? you kissed me like you’ve been rehearsing it in your dreams.”
he looked away. shy. “…maybe i have.”
you narrowed your eyes. “wait. have you?”
he winced. “that was a joke.”
it was silent for a hot minute.
“…mostly. i—i never really get close to pretty girls because i don’t— well i don’t go out. so. um. yeah…”
you grabbed his hoodie and pulled him closer until your lips were right in front of his plush ones. “stop speaking nonsense and kiss me again, sim.”
he didn’t hesitate. just smiled at you and slammed your lips on his. he kissed you like he was finally where he belonged.
and maybe he was.
because nerdy physics tutors?
yeah. they might know the laws of motion — but now he knew what it felt like to crash into you.
please reblog if you enjoyed this cute lil fic ! it helps a lot <3
[ @jaeyuniversal ] prod. 250508
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